A Pain That I'm Used To
by Dirty Robber
Summary: Sequel to Pieces. Booth, Brennan and the squints investigate a double homicide. Booth also continues searching for answers about Brennan's past.
1. Chapter 1

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with BONES. The only things I own in this story are the characters that are not usually part of the series.**

**Author's note: This story picks up four months after Brennan's mom's funeral and is a sequal to my other story "Pieces". Hope you enjoy it!**

**Summary: Booth, Brennan and the squints investigate a double homicide. Booth also continues his search for answers concerning Brennan's parents.**

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A frustrated sigh escaped Seeley Booth's lips for the third time in less than a minute. Seated at his desk, Booth studied the file on Max and Ruth Keenan that had been created in the 1970s detailing their bank robbery expertise. He then glanced at the file that Brennan had given him on her parents, Matt and Christine Brennan. The Keenans and the Brennans were one in the same yet so very different.

The file on Matt and Christine Brennan was larger than it had been when Temperance had given it to him several months ago. She had asked for his help and he had done what he could with the little information he'd had. Then the case had blown wide open when Christine Brennan had been found…in "limbo" in the Jeffersonian.

Just when Booth thought that he and his partner had a handle on the case, Brennan's father, presumed dead by all, had called his daughter and begged her to stop looking into the matter…to stop looking for him. Booth leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and rehashed the whole sordid affair, including Brennan's reaction...or maybe it was her lack of a reaction.

Booth had one of the best people at the Bureau attempt to trace Matt Brennan's call to no avail. The number had been traced to a disposable cell phone and that was as much information they had been able to obtain. Booth had also begun looking into who had actually taken Brennan out of foster care, since it obviously was not her grandfather.

Jacob Curry had proven to be an alias for the old man who had shown up at the Department of Children Services claiming to be Christine Brennan's father, demanding that Temperance be released into his custody. Booth had no photographs of the man to compare to any possible mug shots nor did he have any fingerprints to run through AFIS. His gut told him that the man had been a friend and probably a "work associate" of Max and Ruth's.

He knew that the man had died after Brennan had left for college and had been buried in Chicago. Booth had spoken with Cullen about having Jacob Curry's body exhumed months ago so that Angela could do a facial reconstruction on the skull, providing at least a visual identification. But the request had run into several problems and was tied up in so much government red tape that Booth wanted to scream, just literally scream his frustration away.

The ringing of his office phone dragged Booth from his thoughts. "Booth," he answered smoothly.

"Agent Booth, I need you in my office now," Cullen's voice boomed.

"New case sir?"

"Among other things." The dial tone of the phone indicated that Cullen was not in the mood for chit-chat. Booth sighed yet again as he stood up, grabbed his suit jacket and walked out the door.

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"How many times have you called the Chicago field office this week, Agent Booth?" Cullen paced behind his desk, his hands clasped together behind his back.

"Several, sir. I'm just trying to get through all of this red tape on the case…."

Cullen stopped and studied the agent. "I told you that this exhumation business would take awhile. We have no real evidence that 'Mr. Curry' was involved in any sort of criminal activity, bank robberies or otherwise. Plus agents with the Chicago field office have to search for any possible next of kin, since you have so effectively proven that Dr. Brennan and her brother are of no relation to the man…"

"How can they search for a possible next of kin when we don't have any idea who the hell the guy really is? We're chasing our tails here! Running around in circles winding that goddamn red tape tighter and tighter!"

Now it was Cullen's turn to sigh. "Booth, I know that this case is important to you…for Dr. Brennan's sake. I really do understand that, but you know that we have protocols and procedures for a reason." He watched as Booth ran his right hand over his face in a tired manner. "Let me see what I can do to help. After all, one does not become Deputy Director of the FBI without the ability to pull a few strings."

Booth's grateful gaze met Cullen's. "Thank you sir. Anything you can do would be greatly appreciated."

Cullen nodded as he reached for a file and tossed it toward Booth. "You and Dr. Brennan have a case. Now get the hell out of my office."

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Booth quickly entered the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab and began searching for his forensic anthropologist. When he didn't find her in her office, he walked toward the platform area. He swiped his keycard and entered the platform area expecting to find Brennan but located her squint squad instead. Angela, Hodgins and Zach were standing around one of the computer terminals talking.

Angela's dark eyes spotted the handsome agent as he approached them. "Hey Booth, what's up?"

"Hey, sorry to interrupt the brain trust conference here, but where the hell is Bones?" Booth regarded the trio with a serious expression as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Dr. Brennan is giving a tour to one of the Jeffersonian's benefactors," Zach stated as he glanced up at Booth. "She should be back soon."

"A tour?" Booth scoffed at the image of Brennan as a tour guide.

"This guy is a major financial contributor to the Jeffersonian," Hodgins explained. "Every year he schedules a tour of the facility but only if Brennan—and I mean _only_ Brennan—is available to take him around."

Booth stared at the curly haired doctor. "Be that as it may, his little 'tour de lab' does not take precedence over a double homicide investigation. By the way, all of you are going out to the scene…and why the hell is Bones the only person he'll tour the lab with?"

Angela smirked as Booth's obvious jealousy reared its handsome head. Since David was no longer in Brennan's life, Booth had managed to insinuate himself into her best friend's personal life a little more without any interruption. "He just always requests that Bren be the one to show him around…"

"He's a horny 78-year-old guy who likes looking at her butt as she walks in front of him," Hodgins stated with authority. "It's amazing what money can buy you."

"That's not very respectful. Dr. Brennan is a renowned forensic anthropologist and should be treated as such," Zach said forcefully. He found it disdainful that his mentor would be objectified in such a manner.

"Okay, ewww…" Angela grimaced. "Does Goodman know about that?"

Booth's lips twitched into a smile. "Better yet, does Bones know about it?"

"Well the guy did make it to seventy-eight without her beating the hell out of him…" Hodgins chuckled.

As the four of them stood laughing on the platform, Booth heard Brennan behind him.

"Okay, Mr. Moore, I hope this tour has aided in establishing where your considerable donations…" Brennan began her spiel, forcing a fake smile.

"It was entertaining as always my dear Dr. Brennan." The older man squeezed Brennan's left bicep as he walked past her to leave. "I appreciate your valuable time."

Brennan cringed slightly at being touched. It was one thing if she initiated physical contact, it was quite another when she did not invite it…well, with the exception of Booth. But then again, Booth proved to be the exception in several aspects of Brennan's life.

From his vantage point on the platform, Booth witnessed Brennan's reaction and stopped laughing. It was obvious to him that she was not comfortable being around the distinguished looking benefactor. He watched as the older man moved past Brennan, allowing his eyes to travel up and down her body before exiting the lab area.

"That son of a bitch…" Booth muttered as Brennan made her way to her office. "You three get your squint stuff ready to go…and take the Jeffersonian van so you can transport the bodies back here." Booth quickly left the platform area.

"Squint stuff? Would he like to narrow that down? That's like saying 'hey can you look at that dirt'," Hodgins huffed as he moved about looking for specimen jars to collect soil samples at the scene. Angela rolled her eyes as she left for her office to collect her camera and sketching utensils.

Booth entered Brennan's office about thirty seconds after the good doctor. "Bones! We've got a case…"

He stopped short when he saw her on the phone, holding one finger in the air at him, indicating she would be with him in a minute.

"Yes, Dr. Goodman, I realize you had a last minute meeting today. Next year when Mr. Moore and his hefty checkbook come back for yet _another_ tour, if you happen to have another last minute meeting, then I would suggest rescheduling or canceling the tour." She paused as she listened to Goodman. "Fine, let's just say that Mr. Moore will not see his 79th birthday if you happen to be busy next year!" Brennan slammed down the phone and turned toward Booth. "What do you want?"

Booth stared at her for a moment, taking in her flushed face and angry eyes. "Uh, you okay Bones?"

"I'm fine. What do you want?"

"Oh, yeah, you're fine what with the yelling and the phone slamming…"

"Booth!" Brennan sighed, attempting to control her frustration. "Are you here about a case?"

He realized that she was not going to discuss what had occurred with Mr. Moore and how much it bothered her. "Yeah, Bones…double homicide in a small town near Richmond. The locals found two skeletons in unmarked graves."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How did the locals manage to find two unmarked graves? Were they searching for the victims?"

"No, they received a letter and a detailed map that led them to the bodies."

Brennan quirked an eyebrow at him. "From the killer?"

Booth sat down on the couch in her office, preparing to answer any further questions she had.

"Yeah, that would be a good bet. I just hope this isn't a serial killer case." He watched as she collected her necessary tools and bag. "You ready to go?"

Brennan nodded as she walked past him and out of the office.

"Oh, yeah, she's fine…" he muttered as he exited the office to go find the other squints and give them directions to the crime scene.

**More Author's Notes: I provided the name "Jacob Curry" for Brennan's "grandfather", as I don't recall his name being mentioned on the show.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2—A Pain That I'm Used To**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them.**

**Author's notes: I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. Thanks again for reading (even if you aren't reviewing) and special thanks to all of you who have taken the time to review. **

**Thanks to 'a red burn' for the spoiler tips…I may try to incorporate those into the story. **

**And thanks to 'elliot02uk' for your nice review. I can appreciate your objection to certain things being included in fiction…it doesn't make you grumpy; you just like what you like. In my defense though, Parker was just begging to come out and play in the last story.**

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The miles of trees lining the sides of the roadway did not provide the scenic beauty that Booth usually preferred. A nice warm beach with scantily clad women and an open bar nearby sounded more appealing than driving over the river and through the woods to a double homicide scene. Booth sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he stared out the front windshield of the SUV at more trees and more roadway. They had been driving for well over an hour but it felt more like five hours. The oppressive silence that enveloped the SUV had not helped.

Booth glanced over at Brennan and briefly wondered if he should parlay his thoughts about a beachfront getaway with bikinis and open bars. When he found himself wondering what type of bathing suit Brennan owned, Booth decided it would be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut.

For her part, Temperance Brennan had effectively ignored her partner and his continuous sighing sessions. She had become engrossed in the file that Booth had provided her. The file itself was extremely skimpy and did not contain much information but she found herself captivated by the letter that had accompanied the map to the bodies. Booth had been correct in his assertion that the map was indeed very detailed. The person who drew the map had included the distances from the main highway, the lake that was near the graves and several trees that had markings in them where teenagers had declared their love for one another with hearts, initials and plus signs.

Watching as she poured over the letter yet again, Booth noticed that a lock of Brennan's long auburn hair blocked a full view of her face. He reached his right hand out and gently tucked the strand behind her ear, his action catching her by surprise. Brennan's head shot up and she turned her face to him.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were awake," he joked.

"I was reading." She finished the task of pushing the lock of hair behind her ear. Looking around at the scenery, Brennan sighed. "Wow, that's a lot of trees."

Booth chuckled. "Yeah, I think we've passed the same one a few times."

"That would mean we've been driving in a circle and I believe the map clearly outlined that this highway is a straight stretch to Willow Lake." Brennan quickly pulled out the map that Booth had left in her charge.

"Joke, Bones. It was a joke…never mind." He let a few minutes pass before he spoke again. "So you doing okay?"

In the few minutes of silence, Brennan had averted her attention once again to the letter from the killer or killers. "I'm fine," she replied curtly.

For the last four months she had been asked on an almost daily basis if she was okay and Brennan was quickly growing tired of the question and of her patent answer of 'fine'. If she really wanted to examine how she was—and she didn't—she would have to admit that 'fine' and 'okay' were not adjectives that could be applied to Dr. Temperance Brennan as of late.

"I just thought you know…if there's anything on your mind….something bothering you…we've got at least another hour before we get to the crime scene." Booth smiled at her.

He knew that she wasn't fine. She had not been fine for four months but Booth thought if nothing else, perhaps Brennan would discuss how much that old fart benefactor had pissed her off. If she would just acknowledge that much, Booth knew that he, not necessarily Brennan, would feel better. The truth was her lack of emotional response since her mother's funeral bothered him greatly. She had become increasingly moody, her outburst were a little more volatile and she seemed to have retreated more and more into herself.

"What the hell is this Booth, a therapy session?" Now Brennan's attention was solely concentrated on him and Booth found that he didn't feel comfortable under her icy gaze.

"No Bones," he said evenly, with a great deal of patience, "it's not a therapy session. It's just two friends driving to a crime scene having a friendly discussion. You know, friends discuss their feelings with each other occasionally…"

He looked over at her and was met with a blank stare. "Come on Bones. I know you and Angela…okay; I know Angela has come to you and discussed her feelings about things in her life. Give it a try. You know, monkey see, monkey do."

Brennan continued to stare at him which caused Booth to squirm slightly in his seat. "I fail to see the connection between primates and sharing ones feelings."

"It's just a saying Bones. God, do you have to be so argumentative about everything? I was just trying to get you to tell me how pissed off you were at that Moore guy…but no, instead you start an argument and now _I'm_ pissed off!" Booth gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

"If you knew the incident with Mr. Moore was bothering me then why did you ask if I was okay?" Brennan quirked one eyebrow at her partner as she studied his body language. While she was a novice at reading people, Brennan knew that Booth was extremely irritated at the moment.

"I wanted _you_ to tell me about it Bones…I wanted you to feel that you could talk to me about that or anything for that matter. You know what…just drop it." Frustration dripped through his tone and tensed the muscles in his body.

After a few minutes Booth slowly released his death grip on the steering wheel. Brennan studied him for a moment, noting that his posture was a little more relaxed.

"Booth?"

Another sigh escaped his lips. "Yeah Bones?"

"I know that I can talk to you about anything," she replied firmly but in a quiet tone.

A small smile formed on his lips. "Good Bones. That's good."

"But I don't want to talk about anything right now." Brennan opted for flipping the file open again instead of watching the dizzying sight of a million trees pass by.

Booth shook his head at his partner. "Always gotta have that last word, huh?"

She shrugged, her eyes never leaving the file. "Usually works out that way Booth."

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The SUV pulled onto the small gravel road with the Jeffersonian van close behind. Both of the vehicles came to a stop behind a mass of marked sheriff office units. Booth and Brennan both noted a large group of deputies standing on the road outside of the crime scene tape that covered the east side of the wooded area.

Angela hopped out of the van and quickly made her way over to Brennan. "Bren, I refuse to ride in that van with Zach and Hodgins anymore today! I have just endured the most asinine, inane, stupid conversations and arguments for the past three hours without a break or a means of escape…"

"Ange, Booth and I have been arguing too."

"Oh well, color me shocked," Angela replied sarcastically. "I don't care, Bren. I am not going back to DC in that van with those two."

Booth stifled a laugh as he watched Brennan attempt to calm the dark-haired woman. He could no longer contain his laughter when the objects of Angela's disgust walked toward them, arguing over whether Harry Potter would survive in the last book of the series.

"Don't worry Angela. I personally like you too much to subject you to that type of conversation any further." Booth patted her on the back in a show of sympathy.

"Special Agent Booth?" A tall fair haired man in uniform approached the group. Booth turned and acknowledged the man by extending his right hand.

"I'm Booth. Are you Sheriff Fife?" Booth observed the man's stiff posture and deduced that Fife had spent some time in a branch of the military. He estimated that the man was around 40 years of age and from the look in his eyes, Booth knew that Fife had seen a lot in his life.

"Yeah, but call me Mike please," he said as he flashed a grin at Angela and Brennan. "Actually you can call me anything but Barney." Fife stretched out a hand toward Brennan who accepted it.

"Why would we call you Barney when you just told us your name is Mike?" Brennan questioned, confusion creasing her brow.

Sheriff Fife laughed heartily as he finally released her hand. "I like you ma'am."

"That's Dr. Temperance Brennan…" Booth began his introductions.

"Oh, I know who she is," Sheriff Fife turned his attention back to Brennan. "I've read your book plus a few articles that you've written. That information was very helpful in preserving this crime scene. We uncovered just enough of one of the skeletons to make sure that this wasn't bogus and then I set my men outside of the tape."

"Well that was very...thorough of you." Brennan shifted uneasily under the sheriff's effusive attention.

"Yeah, thorough. Anyway, that is Angela Montenegro, forensic artist; Dr. Jack Hodgins, bug and slime guy extraordinaire; and Zach Addy, Bones' assistant. Or the squint squad as I affectionately call them." Booth smiled at the group and received several glares in return.

"Bones?" Sheriff Fife questioned.

"That would be Booth's affectionate nickname for Brennan," Angela explained as she stepped past him.

"Oh…okay." Sheriff Fife nodded, appearing to understand the implied dynamic between the special agent and the forensic anthropologist. "Well, let me lead you all to the site so you can get started."

Booth held up the crime scene tape so Brennan could enter the wooded area. He took one of the bags containing her equipment from her hands and walked ahead of her before she could argue. Beside her, Angela chuckled. "Well, he's learning."

"Learning what? How to annoy the hell out of me even more than usual?" Brennan huffed.

"No, he's just learning to walk faster before you have a chance to chew him out." Angela continued to chuckle as Brennan quietly seethed.

After a few minutes hike, the group came to a small clearing in the woods and were taken aback by the quiet beauty of the lake nearby. The clearing was private enough to bury two bodies and never be seen but open enough to stare out at the lake on a clear day for hours.

Angela quickly removed the digital camera from its carrying case and began taking photographs of the clearing, the area around and the small area in the ground that had been disturbed by the deputies.

"How is this an FBI case Booth? This isn't a national park…" Brennan glanced over at Booth, who stood with his hands on his hips, appraising the small area.

"I punted this one to the FBI, Dr. Brennan," Sheriff Fife explained. "Once we figured out that this wasn't a hoax, I knew that my department was in over our heads. We've not had a murder in this community in over 20 years. I just don't know what to make of this." He shook his head in a sad manner.

"We'll do everything we can to help sheriff," Booth replied. "Bones and her team are the best at this kind of stuff."

"Okay Bren, I've taken all of the preliminary photographs." Angela returned to her spot beside Brennan.

"Good. Just continue to photograph the graves and the condition of the remains as we uncover them." Brennan turned to Booth. "Do you have the map?"

"Yeah," he replied as he pulled it out of the file.

"That looks like a copy," Sheriff Fife observed.

"It is…we made copies of the letter and the map so that the folks in Documents could analyze the handwriting and the forensic people could look for fingerprints," Booth explained as he handed the map to Brennan.

Holding the map in front of her, Brennan and Zach studied it intently. "Okay, the second body should be three feet or so to the left of the other one. Jack, find a tree that has the initials 'B.R'. and 'N.T.' scratched into it and measure out fifty feet southwest from it," she instructed.

Hodgins did as he was told and marked a spot in the ground approximately four feet to the left of the slightly exposed grave. "I'm going to take a topsoil sample from both areas before you two get started."

Brennan nodded as she and Zach slipped on coveralls and gloves. She handed Zach a shovel and a trowel as she began doling out instructions. "Zach, you take the exposed site, tell me what you see as you go and be careful not to damage the remains."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." Zach settled into his spot and began removing the soft earth around the exposed bones. "Dr. Brennan, I've got the ulna and radius of the left forearm exposed. This grave appears to be approximately three feet deep."

"Okay Zach," Brennan replied as she began to carefully dig a few feet away where Hodgins had marked the other grave site.

Booth removed his suit jacket, placed it on a tree limb and loosened his tie. "Sheriff, you might want to grab a seat…or a tree stump….we're going to be here awhile."

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Booth stretched and looked at his watch. Brennan and Zach had been digging and moving soil around for five hours without a break. Booth noticed the young man stealing glances at his mentor in hopes that she would announce that it was time for a break but Brennan never looked up and never stopped working. Angela and Hodgins had walked around the area for a few minutes at a time and had taken their share of water and bathroom breaks.

"Hey Bones, you thirsty?" Booth stood above her holding out a cold bottle of water.

Brennan used the sleeve of the coveralls to wipe away the sweat rolling down her forehead. "I'll get something after I'm done."

"You and the kid could die of heat exhaustion before you're done." Booth turned to Zach and waved the water bottle at him. "Kid, how about you? Or are you going to be as stubborn as your teacher there?"

Zach glanced over at Brennan and then at the water bottle, clearly struggling with his decision. Brennan sighed. "Zach, take five minutes."

"Take ten minutes Zach, replenish your fluids, grab one of the sandwiches that Fife's men got for us," Booth instructed.

"Thanks Agent Booth." Zach quickly climbed out of the grave, grabbed the water bottle from Booth's hand and made his way toward the deputies.

"I told him five minutes Booth." Brennan stared up at him, astonished that Zach had taken orders from Booth and not her.

"Come on Bones, you and the kid haven't stopped working for five hours. He deserved a break…you do too." Booth leaned down and smiled at her. "You know you wanna climb out of there…"

"And smack that smug smile off your face? Then you would be correct." Brennan resumed moving soil until she located the top of the skull.

"Tsk, tsk, Bones. Such violent tendencies and you wonder why I don't allow you to carry a gun."

Brennan ignored his comment and climbed out of the grave, causing Booth to step back. "Whoa Bones, I was just joking."

Brennan looked down into the grave that Zach had been working in. She quickly leaned forward, down into the site and moved some of the soil around.

"Bones, what the hell? The kid will be back in ten measly minutes. You don't have to work on both graves by yourself!" Booth watched as she stood and walked back to the grave site she had previously occupied, looked down and then walked back to the other site.

"Bones? Hey Bones? You wanna let me in what's so fascinating?"

Sheriff Fife slowly approached with drinks and food for the agent and anthropologist. "You find something?"

Booth shrugged at the man, waiting for enlightenment from Brennan.

"Male, Caucasian, 43 to 46 years of age and female, also Caucasian, also 43 to 46 years of age," she mumbled more to herself than to her audience.

Booth took out a notepad from his back pocket and wrote down Brennan's observations. "Sheriff, does that description match any possible missing persons you have on file?"

"Oh my god…I bet its Ronald and Katherine Thompson." The sheriff stood stoically as he watched Brennan continue to work.

"Thompson?" Booth questioned.

"They went missing two years ago…left behind two kids…no one had a clue what happened to them," he answered softly.

Booth noticed Brennan's head slowly rise up at the sheriff's answer as memories of her past came crashing in on her once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters associated with BONES.**

**Author's notes: Thanks again for reading and again special thanks to those of you who are reviewing. It's always great to read your comments and observations. Enjoy this next chapter. **

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Brennan and her team entered the Jeffersonian around midnight with Booth in tow. Each one of them was exhausted and dirty, especially Brennan and Zach. Booth's sable gaze followed the group as Brennan instructed Zach and Hodgins to take the boxes containing the two separate remains to the platform area. His gaze continued to follow Brennan as she walked to her office.

Angela stood beside him, also watching her friend. "Maybe you should take her off this case Booth." She had managed to keep that opinion to herself on the ride back from the crime scene though it had been difficult. Angela knew that telling Brennan that she couldn't do something was the best possible way to ensure that she would tackle the task, regardless of the consequences.

"Yeah, cause she would be so understanding about that…"

"Booth, I'm serious. With everything that's happened in the last few months, I'm not sure that this is the type of case Bren needs to be working on." The sadness and concern in Angela's eyes were not lost on Booth.

"I understand Ange, but maybe this case is the push she needs to finally deal with everything." He looked away from Angela, his gaze returning to Brennan's office. "I do know one thing…it's damn late, I'm tired, she's tired and so is everyone else. As soon as frick and frack finish placing the remains on the platform, we're all leaving."

As if she had planned to rebel against Booth, Brennan came walking out of her office with her lab coat on, searching for a pair of gloves in one of the pockets. She quickly made up way up the stairs to the platform after swiping her id card. Angela shook her head at Booth as the agent watched his partner.

"Yeah, good luck getting her to leave. She'll stay at least another two hours before she heads home." Angela started toward her office to retrieve a few items before going home. "Goodnight sweetie!" she threw over her shoulder to Brennan as she walked away.

Hodgins was taking the soil samples out of his canvass bag, placing them on the table near the boxes containing the remains while Zach leaned heavily against one of the computer terminals, attempting to keep his heavy eyelids open.

"Hey Zach, hang in there for a few more minutes. If you fall asleep there I am not carrying you out to the car." Hodgins smirked at the young protégé.

"I'm not asleep," Zach mumbled as his eyelids shut firmly.

"Zach, Hodgins, go home and get some rest," Brennan said as she approached them. Zach's eyes flew open and he saw his mentor open one of the boxes of remains.

"Oh Dr. Brennan, I can stay and help…" he began.

"Go home Zach. You worked hard today and you need some rest." Brennan pulled a glove over her hand and was reaching into the box when Booth placed his hand firmly on her forearm.

"Bones what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It's a little something I like to call work." She glanced down at his hand, noting that Booth was not loosening his grip.

"You know that thing that you and the rest of your team did earlier today? That was work too. I think you've worked enough for today." He reached across and closed the lid of the box with his free hand. "The bones will be here for you to play with tomorrow. Home…now."

Brennan pulled her arm from his grasp and locked her icy stare with his. "I'm staying to work on this case for a few more hours Booth."

Hodgins pulled Zach away from the terminal and pushed him past Booth. "As much as I would like to stay and watch her beat you down man, we're gone," Hodgins grinned as he walked past the couple.

"Bones you're not staying. Come back in the morning after you've had a few hours rest. Come on, I'll even drive you home." Providing her with his best charm smile, Booth motioned for her to follow him.

Rolling her eyes, she relented. As much as she hated to admit it, Booth was right—she did need a few hours of sleep. "Fine, I'll go home but I'm driving myself."

"Okay, drive yourself, but I'm calling your home phone in 30 minutes and if you don't pick up, I'm driving back to this lab and dragging you out of here." Booth pulled her lab coat from her form as she walked past him.

"You try dragging me out of here and you'll walk funny for the rest of your life," Brennan scoffed, causing Booth to laugh.

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After several more minutes in the parking structure, promising Booth that she would not return to the lab until 7 am and convincing him that he didn't need to call and check on her, Brennan was finally making her way home.

As she drove, Brennan searched the radio for a station with decent music. Regardless of how loud she turned the volume, Sheriff Fife's voice kept echoing in her head. _They went missing two years ago…left behind two kids…no one had a clue what happened to them. Left behind two kids…no clue…missing…_

Memories of the last moments she saw her parents drive away flooded Brennan's mind and mingled with the skeletons she and Zach had unearthed earlier.

Brennan's breathing became erratic and short as she felt her chest tighten. She pulled off the main road and sat for a moment hoping the sensation would cease. _Two kids…no clue…missing._ She found herself gasping for breath and the heaviness settling in her chest was not easing. Brennan made a quick decision and pointed her car in the direction of the hospital. She could barely breathe so she knew that she wouldn't be able to call for help.

Ten painful, fearful minutes later, Brennan pulled in front of the emergency room. Her breathing was better and the pain in her chest had eased slightly, but she knew that she needed to see a physician. She slowly made her way inside the emergency room and was greeted with the sight of a huddled mass of the sickly and the bloody. Brennan walked up to window where a rotund older woman sat behind a glass partition chomping on a piece of gum ignoring the entire waiting room.

"Be with you in a moment," the woman snapped.

Brennan didn't know if she had a moment. She slapped the glass partition with her hand startling the older woman. "Chest pain," she managed to croak out before the room began spinning around her and darkness enveloped her.

"Oh crap," the woman said as she watched Brennan collapse. "We're gonna need a gurney…possible heart attack!"

**Author's notes: Sorry it was a short chapter….I'll try to update soon but I want to have a few more chapters written before I do so. (crosses fingers) Here's hoping I don't suffer a severe case of writer's block in the next few days.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer: Never have owned them, never will.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Okay, I'm in the process of writing Chapter 6 at the moment. Hopefully I will have more time to write in the next few days. I had this chapter ready yesterday with the intention of posting it Friday, but I decided not to be a "cliffhanger queen"—not that there's anything wrong with that! Anyway, enjoy and I hope this tides you over for a few days…**

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_Beep….beep…beep…beep._ Brennan groaned as she opened her eyes to glare at whatever was causing the offending noise. She was confronted with a white tile ceiling, bright lights and the overwhelming smell of antiseptic. She looked down at her body and noticed that her blouse had been unbuttoned and several wires were attached to her chest above the line of her bra.

"Ah Dr. Brennan, good to see you've rejoined the land of the living," said a stout older looking man in a white physician's coat.

"There was time when I wasn't living?" Brennan glanced around the small curtained area.

"No, no…just a figure of speech."

"Well, it's not a good one to use in this setting Dr…" Brennan glanced at his jacket trying to find a name tag.

"Seats. Dr. Seats. So are you feeling better?" He looked over her chart for a moment before glancing back at her.

"Yes, the pain in my chest is gone and my breathing seems normal." Brennan breathed a sigh of relief.

"And did you have any vertigo or dizziness during this episode?" Dr. Seats asked as he pulled out a pen to write on her chart.

"Yes, just before…well, I guess before I passed out," she replied slightly embarrassed.

"Okay, Dr. Brennan we've checked your vitals, ran an EKG and…"

"It was a heart attack, wasn't it?" Brennan flopped her head back against the pillow, waiting for him to confirm the diagnosis.

"No, it was good old classic panic attack," he replied as he scribbled his signature on a prescription pad. "It just felt like a 1000 pounds was sitting on your chest but you're fine, Dr. Brennan. Now, have you been under any undue or abnormal stress as of late?"

Brennan stared at the older man as she began laughing mirthlessly.

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Shortly after 2 am, Brennan stepped into her apartment, letting her bag simply fall to the floor in the entryway as she closed her front door. Her departure from the emergency room had been delayed when Brennan refused the doctor's request for her to call someone to come pick her up. After a brief argument with the stubborn forensic anthropologist, the doctor had thrown his hands in the air indicating defeat. He managed to chide her slightly as she left, pointing out the importance of keeping emergency contact information with her identification.

She tossed the prescription sheet that Dr. Seats had given to her on her desk as she walked past it. Entering her bedroom, Brennan slowly discarded her clothing, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She stepped into the bathroom and turned on her shower allowing the water to reach its hottest temperature. She entered the shower and let the water beat down on her, washing away the sweat and dirt from digging at the grave site earlier.

Once the hot water began to run cold, Brennan stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a towel. Reentering her bedroom, she threw on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt before falling into bed. Exhaustion from her earlier physical exertion and then the panic attack overtook her and she was asleep in minutes.

The shrill ringing of the phone shook Brennan out of a dead slumber at 7 am. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock again to ensure that she had read the time correctly. Yep, 7 am…do you know where your forensic anthropologist is? That was the gist of the first question shouted at her as Brennan picked up the phone.

"Where the hell are you Bones?" Booth didn't attempt to hide his frustration.

Brennan laid back on her bed, placing the phone on her pillow and cradling it to her ear. "Obviously I'm at home, since this is the number you called." She yawned slightly as she continued. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the lab where you said you would be at 7 am and guess what…that's now!" Booth paced around Brennan's office. "Are you still in bed?"

"I overslept. I'll be there in 30 minutes." Brennan hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes. Her conversation with Dr. Seats replayed in her mind.

"_Now you can do breathing exercises when this feeling strikes you again, which helps a great many people…" he explained patiently._

"_Wait, you think this is going to happen again?"_

"_The chances are good that yes, this will happen again. Now, I've written out a prescription to help you with any anxiety but it does have a side effect of drowsiness…"_

"_I don't want it," she said, interrupting again._

"_Well, I'm still going to write it out. That doesn't mean you have to have it filled, okay?" Dr. Seats placed the piece of paper on Brennan's lap. "You can get dressed now Dr. Brennan but I warn you…if you don't deal with whatever is causing these attacks, you will continue to have them."_

Brennan sighed heavily. She had trekked through Tibet avoiding the Red Army; she had survived three days of captivity in El Salvador; and she had woken bloodied and battered with memory loss in a hotel in New Orleans and not one of those incidents had caused a stupid panic attack or an ounce of anxiety. Okay, maybe an ounce of anxiety, but not enough to render her helpless.

But a double homicide case where the victims were likely a husband and wife who had disappeared and left two kids behind…this was the case that was going to break her.

She pushed herself out of bed and clamored around the room to get dressed. Deciding on a pair of blue jeans, a white button-up blouse and her favorite pair of boots, Brennan dressed and was out the door in record time.

**Author's notes: Congrats to all who guessed that it was a panic attack. Anyone who has ever endured one of those knows just how scary they can be. I wouldn't wish one on my worst enemy…okay, well maybe my _worst_ enemy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with BONES. I only own the characters that are not usually part of the series.**

**Author's notes: Thanks again to everyone who is reading this story and special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. Each review helps push me to update just a little sooner if possible. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Booth paced around Brennan's office after she had hung up on him. He had made plans to rise early and meet her at the lab at 7 am since he knew that she would want to start on the remains as soon as possible. The word 'shocked' did not begin to describe Booth's expression upon entering the lab and then Brennan's office to find that she was not present.

And the word 'worried' did not begin to effectively describe Booth's mood as he started dialing Brennan's cell phone and home phone numbers. He was more panic-stricken than he cared to admit. It simply was not like Brennan to be late, especially to the lab.

Although he had joked with her about checking the lab and dragging her away from it if she had returned last night, Booth had called shortly after arriving at home and spoke with one of the security officers. The man confirmed that Dr. Brennan had indeed left the premises and had not returned.

It wasn't that Booth didn't trust Brennan…he just knew how these cases seemed to overtake her. And, he admitted to himself, he, like Angela, was worried about the possible emotional ramifications of this new case if the remains belonged to Ronald and Katherine Thompson. He had not missed the pained expression that had momentarily graced her face as she stood over one of the remains and stared up at him and the sheriff. Booth had watched as she righted herself and continued working as though Sheriff Fife had never mentioned the Thompsons.

Booth stopped pacing as he surveyed the office, noticing some of the artwork and odd fixtures Brennan had used as decoration. He had never really noticed how gruesome some of the artifacts were. He meandered over to one of the shelves and picked up a shrunken head by the small twig of hair sticking out of the top, bringing it to his eye level.

He whistled as he stared at the grotesque features. "Tough luck there, huh, dude?"

"Would you mind putting William back where you found him please?" Brennan breezed into the office, tossing her bag on the couch before seating herself behind her desk.

"You named this thing William?" He quickly placed 'William's' head back on the shelf before Brennan put _his_ on display.

"No, Angela did. William is one of her ex-boyfriends," she explained as she quickly checked her email.

"Hmm…I thought Angela had better taste," he joked as he walked over to the couch, moved Brennan's bag and sat down.

"Well we can't all date lawyers," she said smoothly as she typed a reply to one of the emails.

Booth raised an eyebrow at her comment. "Or investment bankers…right?" he parried. They were tied one for one in the snarky comment department that morning.

Brennan turned toward him and narrowed her eyes. "Right…" She finished typing her reply as Booth watched silently. Once she had finished her task, she swiveled her chair, got up, grabbed her lab coat from its place on the coat rack and walked out the door.

Booth groaned as he hoisted himself off the couch and followed her to the platform area. "It's going to be another beautiful day in the neighborhood…," he muttered to himself.

After the couple had both swiped their respective keycards to enter the platform area, Booth took a seat and watched as Brennan pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened one of the boxes. She patiently and fastidiously set about laying the pieces of the skeletons on the examination table.

"So, which one is that?" Booth queried as he picked up a long straight steel instrument and began fiddling with it.

"The female victim," Brennan replied as she reached over and grabbed the instrument out of his hands. "Stop playing with the instruments."

Booth grinned at her, knowing that he had annoyed her. "Then give me something else to play with."

"Now there's an invitation if I've ever heard one," Angela said as she ascended the platform.

Booth wagged his eyebrows playfully causing Angela to laugh. "Okay, sweetie, when do you think you'll be ready for me to put faces to our victims?"

Brennan turned back to the examination table and continued her task. "I'm almost done with Jane Doe and then I need to place John Doe on the other table. After that, Hodgins will need to examine the bones for particulates and Zach and I will…"

"So we're looking at this afternoon probably," Angela supplied with a small smile. Her best friend could get a little long winded at times when discussing bones.

"Yes, this afternoon." Brennan set about removing the remains from the second box and placing the bones on the examination table.

"Okay then, I'm going to print out the copies of the photographs that I took at the site yesterday. Booth, do you need copies for your file?" Angela asked the agent as she turned to walk to her office.

"Yeah Ange, that would be helpful." Booth continued to watch Brennan work for a few minutes. "Sheriff Fife is faxing over all of the information on the missing persons file he has. He's also emailing the last photographs taken of Ronald and Katherine Thompson a few weeks before they disappeared."

Brennan's hands stopped moving for a moment as she digested what Booth had told her. "You're under the assumption that these remains belong to the Thompsons." She said it more as a statement than a question.

"I think that it's a good bet considering your preliminary findings and how well they match up with the description of the Thompsons," Booth replied, noticing a small tremor in Brennan's right hand as she pulled another piece of the skeleton out of the box. "You okay Bones?"

_Concentrate on your breathing…concentrate on your breathing._ "I'm fine. Just tired I guess." She resumed her task again, hoping that Booth would not question her any further.

"Okay…I'm going to the office to get that fax and print out the photos from the email. I'll be back this afternoon." He stood and walked toward the stairs. As he began to descend, he turned back just in time to see Brennan place her hands on the side of the examination table, bowing her head. If Booth hadn't known better, he would have almost sworn that his partner was praying.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 6**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, but if anyone wishes to give them to me for Christmas I wouldn't mind.**

**Author's notes: Inspiration has struck so I decided to update twice in one day! Thanks again for reading and reviewing.**

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Stirring the contents of the two sugar packets into his coffee, Booth waited patiently in front of the fax machine in the common quarters of the FBI building. Sheriff Fife had promised to fax the information on Ronald and Katherine Thompson at 10:30 that morning. By the time the clock read 10:55, Booth began to wonder if Fife even knew how to work a fax machine. He was startled when the machine began to pull paper through the printer, nearly spilling his coffee.

Placing his Steelers mug to the side, Booth grabbed the sheets spewing from the machine only to find every word illegible and smeared.

"Oh come on!" He crumpled the papers into a ball and threw them across the room in frustration, missing the trash can completely.

"I'm guessing that basketball was not your sport in high school or college," Cullen smirked slightly as he stood in the doorway.

Booth's face reddened slightly as he walked over, picked up the papers and placed them in the trash can. "Sorry sir…I'm just a little…"

"Frustrated? So I gathered. Was that information for the case I assigned to you and Dr. Brennan?" Cullen walked over to the coffee machine and poured the remaining liquid into a small styrofoam cup.

"Yes it was but it was completely illegible. Bones and I will just have to stop by the sheriff's office…if Angela's sketches match up to the photographs the sheriff emailed of the possible victims of course." Booth picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. Finding the beverage tepid, he made a face and poured the remaining contents into the nearby sink.

Cullen watched the agent carefully for a moment. "Speaking of Dr. Brennan, the Chicago field office called this morning. They are exhuming the remains of Jacob Curry this afternoon. He should be at the Jeffersonian by tomorrow morning."

Booth's face brightened considerably at the news. "That's great sir. Thank you so much for your help. I can't believe how quickly you cut through the red tape…"

Cullen put his hand up to stop Booth from making any further comments. "I called in a few favors. Let's leave it at that." He made a face at the cup in his hand before pouring the coffee into the sink as Booth had done moments before. "This coffee is really bad."

Cullen turned to leave but was stopped by Booth's voice. "Sir, I really do appreciate your help."

Turning slightly to face Booth, Cullen sighed. "I didn't do it for you Booth. Dr. Brennan was instrumental in helping me find out why my daughter," Cullen paused as his voice hitched for a second, "was dying of cancer. She gave Amy and my family answers and she helped to save quite a few lives in the process…even if she couldn't save Amy's. The very least I could do is help Dr. Brennan find some answers of her own."

He quickly turned away and walked out of the room, leaving Booth in a solemn silence.

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Angela had waited in her office most of the morning for the skulls of the murder victims to arrive. She had worked on a few personal projects that she was considering displaying at a local art house and had moved on to a game of computer solitaire after lunch before Zach finally delivered the skulls. She was deep in concentration when Booth appeared in her office, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically.

"You're going to have another face to work on tomorrow," he announced happily.

"Are you planning on killing someone? Because if you are, you are way too happy about it." Angela smirked as she looked up from her desk where she was sketching a face for one of the victims.

"Jacob Curry's remains will be here in the morning."

"Wha…? Seriously? Oh my god, Booth." Angela jumped out of her seat and quickly maneuvered around her desk to stand in front of the handsome agent. "Have you told Brennan yet?"

"Uh, no…not yet." The enthusiasm evaporated from Booth's aura at the mention of Brennan.

Confusion crept into Angela's features. "Why not?"

Booth shrugged and then lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Angela's desk. "I don't know. She seems a little…" He struggled to find the correct adjective.

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to describe but yeah, I get it." Angela took a seat in the chair beside him and sighed. "You're going to have to tell her about this. Can you imagine if those remains come in and she's not been informed?"

"My head will be on a shelf next to William's," Booth muttered to himself. He groaned as he pushed himself out of the chair, not relishing his trip to Brennan's office.

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Splitting one of the small tablets in half, Brennan quickly downed the medication with a cup of water. She had taken a short lunch break and filled the prescription that Dr. Seats had given to her. Brennan had decided to succumb to the doctor's advice about the medicine after her bout with a small attack in front of Booth that morning.

She knew that he had seen her holding on to the sides of the examination table before he left—he just hadn't realized that she was grappling with a wave of panic that had flooded her senses after their brief discussions of the Thompsons. Brennan was glad that he had left without confronting her, allowing her to pull herself together before Hodgins and Zach had arrived.

Her head swiveled toward the knock on her office door to find Booth standing in the doorway, looking apprehensive.

"Hey Bones," he said as he strolled into the office. "You have a minute?"

Brennan stared at her partner, trying to read his body language. He was tense, that much was certain, but beyond that Brennan couldn't decipher his mood. She did know that whatever they were about to discuss was not going to be pleasant since Booth never asked if she had time for anything.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes." He sat down across from her and cleared his throat. "You know that I've continued to work on your parents' case since…" Booth's voice faltered as Brennan nodded. "Anyway, um…I've been trying to get the remains of your grandfath…Jacob Curry…exhumed as you know."

Again Brennan nodded. She knew that the exhumation had been tied up but she gave Booth credit for trying.

"So…um, Cullen managed to pull a few strings and the body will be here tomorrow morning." Exhaling a long breath, Booth sat and waited for her reaction.

The inner turmoil in Brennan fired up again—they would have another piece of the puzzle to assist in finding her father but the probability that they would uncover more hurtful lies and secrets was also present. Brennan pushed down the feelings that were rising in her chest and stared at Booth, presenting a calm, impassive exterior…or at least she hoped.

"Okay…good. We can hopefully discover his real identity and see where that leads us, right?" She was proud of the fact that her voice had not quivered. It was surprising considering the physiological upheaval she felt at the moment.

"Uh, yes…" Booth sat in silent surprise at how well she had received the news given her bad mood as of late.

Brennan tossed a file across her desk toward Booth. "Preliminary examinations of the remains on John and Jane Doe indicate that both victims suffered several gunshot wounds. I anticipate having Hodgins' report on the particulates and fibers he located tomorrow."

He realized that there would be no further discussion of Jacob Curry for the day. They were back to business as usual. He recognized the technique as Brennan's only means of coping with the situation and accepted it. Booth nodded as he opened the file and perused the information. "Any idea on the type of gun?"

"It's difficult to say. The victims were shot in the chest area but the bullets did not actually penetrate the center of the sternum. The left side of the sternum and the costal cartilages of two of the ribs around the heart area were struck by the bullets as well as a couple of the ribs themselves," Brennan stated the facts in a detached tone of voice.

"But if you had to guess…," Booth pressed.

She sighed. "If I had to guess I would say the weapon was a 9mm handgun but a more thorough examination may indicate a different caliber weapon."

"Hmmm…"

She sighed again as she watched him look over the findings. "Yeah, I know…not very helpful. 9mm handguns are fairly common."

"The guy went straight for the heart shot," Booth mumbled to himself. He glanced up to find Brennan staring at him. "It's not an execution style type of death," he explained. "You know, down on their knees…shot in the back of the head…."

"So what is a 'heart shot' indicative of?" While Brennan didn't really like conjecture in cases, she still found herself amazed at Booth's insight and thought process. What ultimately amazed her even more was how often her partner's "gut instincts" proved accurate.

Booth shrugged slightly. "The killer wanted them to see it coming…wanted them to know their time was up."

Brennan nodded. "Interesting."

"Wanna know what's even more interesting?" Angela questioned as she walked into the office carrying two sketch pads.

Smiling slightly, Brennan turned her chair toward Angela. "What would that be Ange?"

"It's just plain scary how efficient I am sometimes."

Brennan looked from Angela to Booth and back to her best friend. "That really wasn't more interesting than Booth's observations…"

Rolling her eyes, Angela sighed. "I should have announced that I finished the faces of our victims and been done with it." She turned both of the sketch pads around to show them her renderings.

Booth rifled through his file and extracted the photographs of Ronald and Katherine Thompson that the sheriff had emailed. "Damn you're good Angela."

"Yeah, that's not the first time I've heard that," she stated proudly and with a hint of innuendo.

Booth turned one of the photos around and showed it to Brennan. She gazed at the dark haired couple in the photograph. They were happy, smiling and obviously laughing while attending a birthday party when the photographer snapped the picture.

"It's Ronald and Katherine Thompson," he said softly.

Brennan simply nodded as a feeling of nausea settled in the pit of her stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 7**

**Disclaimer: By now it should be obvious that I don't own them.**

**Author's notes: I hope you all are enjoying this story because it seems like it's going to pretty lengthy…I don't know if that good news or not. Once again, thanks for reading and special thanks for reviewing. And for those of you waiting for fluff, I promise, at some point there will be fluff...lots and lots of fluffiness…you'll feel like you're floating a cloud! **

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Entering the lab around 9 am the next morning, Booth did his cursory search for Brennan on the platform area before walking toward her office. He approached her door quietly unsure what type of mood he would encounter. He found her sitting at her desk, staring at the monitor absorbing whatever information was displayed on the screen.

His knock on the door startled her and he noticed how quickly she exited out of whatever had been on the screen before turning to face him. "You're not dating online again are you?" he teased gently as he walked into the office and took a seat across from her.

"What? No…no…I was just doing some research, that's all."

"For your next book? Am I going to be in that one too?" He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.

"Yeah," she agreed quickly, averting her gaze. It wasn't a complete lie, she reasoned silently. She had been doing research…on panic and anxiety attacks.

Booth pointed his finger at her, his smile even bigger than before. "Ah-ha! So, you admit that Special Agent Andy Lister is based on me?"

Glancing back up at her partner, she noted his happy and smug expression which caused her to roll her eyes. "No, all of the characters and events in my books are completely fictitious…"

"But you said 'yeah'…" Booth began to pout.

"I meant 'yeah' I was doing research. Not 'yeah' the hot FBI agent in the book is based on you, Mr. Ego." Brennan quirked an eyebrow at him as Booth crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"And just how many other 'hot' FBI agents do you know and have contact with?" The question was playful but Booth found himself enthralled at her usage of the word 'hot'. He knew deep down that the character was based on him, even if she didn't want to admit it.

"I know Cullen." She smirked as she watched his mouth fall open.

Booth uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, pointing his right index finger at her. "That's not funny Bones."

"Really? I found it rather amusing myself." She smiled her first genuine smile for the first time in a long time. Brennan enjoyed these types of moments with Booth where she could be herself and the rest of the world just fell away.

Booth grinned back at her and chuckled. He was glad to see a glimpse of the Brennan he knew…she'd been gone too long for his taste.

The moment was shattered when Zach appeared at her doorway, interrupting their friendly banter. "Uh, Dr. Brennan, an Agent Michaels has arrived with the remains from Chicago."

The casual teasing Brennan of a few moments ago disappeared before Booth's eyes. He noticed her jaw tighten at Zach's news as she pushed herself away from her desk. Zach moved away from the office and made his way to the platform.

"Bones, we're going to Willow Lake this morning remember? I mean, I know this is important too but your team can handle it."

The sympathy in his chocolate eyes was unmistakable as Brennan turned her gaze to him. She didn't want sympathy or pity. She wanted this whole nightmare of her parents' past…her past…to be over. She wanted life to go back to normal. Normal was a concept that consisted of coming into the lab, working on interesting finds, helping Booth put killers in prison and hanging out with Booth and her team at Wong Foos on a Friday night. She sighed as she nodded her head.

"You're right Booth. Let me speak to Zach and Hodgins and then we can go." Brennan exited the office to search for her assistant.

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When Brennan couldn't locate Zach or Hodgins on the platform, she made a quick turn in the direction of their offices. As she passed Angela's office, she heard three distinct voices speaking in hushed tones.

"How did she take the news about the arrival?" Angela questioned the young protégé.

"I'm not sure," Zach said with a shrug. "I interrupted a conversation between her and Agent Booth…"

"You mean an argument," Hodgins corrected him quickly.

Zach shook his head. "No, a conversation. Dr. Brennan was actually smiling…well, at least until I told her about her grandfather."

"Jacob Curry is **not** her grandfather," Angela replied quickly. "It would be in your best interest not to refer to him as such in the future."

Angela sighed as she glanced at the two men. "What? What's wrong?" Hodgins questioned.

"I don't know…it sounds like she was kind of getting back to 'normal Brennan' before Zach interrupted." Angela shook her head sadly. "And poor Booth. He's been her verbal punching bag for well over three months now."

Hodgins placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. "She'll be okay…eventually all will be right with Brennan again, I promise. She'll be back to turning down your insistent offers to go out clubbing and ordering us around…."

"I need you and Zach to receive the remains from Chicago," Brennan said from the doorway of Angela's office. All three of them jumped at the sound of Brennan's voice. "And then proceed with extracting DNA so we can run it through the database just in case Angela's sketch doesn't yield an identification."

Angela studied her friend, attempting to gauge how much Brennan may have overheard but as usual, Brennan's stoic expression was unreadable.

Hodgins smiled at Angela. "See? Ordering us around…I told you." He winked at her as he and Zach turned to leave. Hodgins stopped at Brennan's spot in the doorway and handed her a file. "You might want to take this with you on your trip to Willow Lake. The basic gist is that Ronald and Katherine Thompson were buried in those graves two years ago. I'm still looking at the fibers and pieces of clothing we recovered so those reports should be ready in the next day or so."

Brennan accepted the file and nodded at Hodgins. "Good work."

Angela watched as Hodgins exited the office and Brennan slowly walked in. "Are you and Booth leaving now?"

"In a few minutes," Brennan replied, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. She fiddled with the file looking around Angela's office as though she had never been there before.

Angela smiled slightly, knowing that Brennan wanted to say something but was having a difficult time forming the words. She placed a notepad and pen in front of Brennan, who had made her way over to Angela's work station and was standing beside her. "I know you're more eloquent on paper…do you want to write down what you want to say to me?" she teased the anthropologist.

"Funny," Brennan mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, I've thought about doing stand-up."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan replied. She looked at Angela for a brief moment before finally blurting out, "'Verbal punching bag'? I know that I've not been the easiest person to deal with lately but…"

"Sweetie, you've never been the easiest person to deal with," Angela piped in. "But yeah, lately…" Her voice trailed off as she watched Brennan look down at the floor. "Bren, have you thought about talking to someone, you know, professionally?"

Brennan's head shot up as she directed a glare at her best friend. "Angela…" she began, her tone icy.

"Hey Bones, come on let's get this show on the road. And before you say 'what show?', it's just a saying," Booth interrupted from the doorway. "Oh hey Ange, are you going to have that sketch done by the time we get back?"

"Yeah, I'll have it done," Angela answered as she continued to watch Brennan, who had, in turn, continued to stare daggers at her. Brennan suddenly turned away and began walking toward Booth.

Angela had a feeling that Brennan had needed to talk…not that she necessarily _wanted _to talk…but Brennan had no clue how to approach the subject of what was bothering her. She sighed as she watched the couple leave her office, knowing that Brennan was now upset with her for even suggesting the idea of seeing a therapist. She had often wondered why her best friend found the subject of psychology distasteful.

Angela had noticed in the last few months that Brennan tended to lash out when a subject or something in a case hit a little too close to home…too close to her past. And with the trip to Willow Lake to inform the family, the children of Ronald and Katherine Thompson, of their demise, Angela knew that Booth had placed himself in the maelstrom of emotions and anger that Brennan had kept buried for so many years. She just hoped that Brennan would attempt to reign in her anger and irritation now that she was aware of her treatment of a certain special agent.


	8. Chapter 8

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 8**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**Author's notes: Once again, thanks for reading and special thanks to those who are reviewing. I always appreciate your comments and observations. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's the last one I have written…between my nephew's birthday party this weekend and going back to work this evening I'm not sure when I'll have time to write but I promise to try and update again soon.**

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Booth glanced over at Brennan's sleeping form in the passenger seat and smiled slightly. He found it nice to see her relaxed for a change…even if she had to be unconscious to achieve that state. He had sensed a great deal of anxiety emanating from her in the last few days but per usual she had not mentioned how she was feeling or what she was thinking.

The trip to Willow Lake had started out as business talk. They had discussed Hodgins' findings and Brennan had taken the time to explain some of the finer, more scientific mumbo-jumbo portions of the report. He would never understand why they didn't just use the common everyday words that everyone could understand instead of their "squint language".

After discussing the findings, Booth had innocently questioned what she and Angela had been chatting about. He had noticed Brennan's trademark glare directed at her best friend upon entering Angela's office. Brennan muttered something under her breath that Booth couldn't make out and then simply stopped talking. She had stared out the passenger's side window until drifting off to sleep an hour ago.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to a tune stuck in his head, Booth stole another glance at her. He found lately that he couldn't seem to stop himself from doing that…looking at her, watching her movements. Over the past few weeks, he had realized that he could anticipate each one of her moods simply by her stance. He found that he enjoyed learning new things about her…things that she didn't necessarily know about herself. For instance, at the moment Booth was learning that the great Dr. Temperance Brennan snored slightly in her sleep. It wasn't a loud disturbing snore. It was a soft, heavy breathing type of snore which made Booth grin.

He slowed the SUV as he turned on Main Street and began searching for the small sheriff's office. He noticed the stares of the locals in the small community as he pulled into a parking space near the entrance to the sheriff's office. This confirmed yet another conclusion Booth had drawn about the case—a stranger had nothing to do with Ronald and Katherine Thompson's disappearance or deaths. Booth would have bet money that the locals would have called 911 in two seconds flat at the sight of a stranger out and about in their community.

After unbuckling his seatbelt, Booth reached across and placed his hand gently on Brennan's shoulder, attempting to rouse her.

"Bones…hey Bones…wakey-wakey."

Brennan's eyes slowly fluttered open and adjusted to the bright sunlight. Feeling incredibly groggy, she silently cursed the anti-anxiety medication she had taken before she and Booth left the lab.

As her eyes focused, Brennan found herself looking at two elderly people who were standing on a sidewalk, pointing at her. "I'm guessing we're in Willow Lake," she said as she yawned.

"What gave it away? The big sign that says 'Welcome to Willow Lake' over there?" he teased her as he watched her rub the sleep from her eyes.

"That and the local people staring at us as if we're from another planet. I guess in a small community it would be hard to miss two total strangers…" Brennan glanced over at Booth and realized by the look on his face that he had been thinking the same thing.

"Would be kinda hard for a stranger to come to town, kidnap two people and kill them without the locals getting all up in arms," Booth agreed. "You might make a decent investigator yet Bones."

"You keep squinting at things and you might make a decent lab assistant," she shot back.

Booth grinned, leaned in close to her face and narrowed his eyes. "You mean squinting like this?"

Brennan didn't move an inch, allowing Booth's warm breath to wash over her face and neck. "Yeah, exactly like that…" she whispered. Their surroundings disappeared around them as they stared at each other. Brennan felt her heart beat faster than normal but she knew that anxiety was not the culprit this time—Booth was.

For his part, Booth was no longer squinting at his partner. His eyes were wide, lost in the clear blue of Brennan's as he inhaled the vanilla scent of her perfume. Just a little closer and his lips would meet hers…

A loud knock on the driver's side window startled them, sending Booth reeling away from Brennan. His cheeks slightly red, Booth rolled down the window allowing Sheriff Fife access to the two occupants.

"Ahem, sorry to intrude on a moment," the sheriff said, slightly embarrassed.

"There was…we were just talking….I had to wake Bones up," Booth stammered through his explanation.

Sheriff Fife leaned down so he could see Brennan in the passenger's seat. She looked over at him and nodded in agreement. "I fell asleep," she agreed lamely. Why did it feel like she and Booth were two teenagers that had been caught making out? She smiled slightly at the thought.

Chuckling softly, Fife straightened and opened the driver's side door for Booth to exit the vehicle. "I believe Dr. Brennan is fully awake now. Why don't we head into my office and go over that file you came for?"

"Yeah, good idea…good idea." Booth quickly climbed out of the SUV and waited for Brennan on the sidewalk. As she stepped onto the curb beside him, Booth placed his hand at the small of her back and they walked toward the office. Booth's subtle, unconscious gesture did not go unnoticed by Fife, whose smiled broadened.

Entering the sheriff's office, Booth and Brennan took in the unusual décor. There were several framed movie posters lining the walls. _Dirty Harry, Death Wish _and_ The Hunter_ were just a few of the titles that jumped out at Brennan. Booth walked over to a small bookcase in the office and picked up a frame containing a picture of Clint Eastwood with the words 'Make My Day' emblazoned across the bottom.

The sheriff noticed their curious stares and chuckled as he took a seat behind his desk. "I actually went to college in hopes of becoming a filmmaker. I love movies…mostly action movies as you can see." He glanced over at Booth who was still holding the picture frame. "Now if that had been a picture of Steve McQueen, you would not have been allowed to touch it."

Booth laughed and set the frame back in its place on the shelf. "Steve McQueen is the man," he agreed. He noticed Brennan's blank stare. "Come on Bones…Steve McQueen? You gotta know who…" He watched as she shook her head. "Bones you have a television and a DVD player now, you could rent a movie every once in awhile." He made a mental note that the next movie marathon they had at her place would showcase Steve McQueen.

Brennan shrugged. "I'm usually too busy," she replied as she took a seat across from the sheriff. "So how does one go from film school to law enforcement?"

Leaning back in his chair, the sheriff rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. "When one doesn't have enough money to finish school, one goes on to do what his daddy wanted him to do in the first place." He shrugged as he leaned forward, picked up a file and handed it to Brennan. "I believe this is the discussion we should be havin' instead of about my wayward past."

Booth nodded as he swooped in and took the file from Brennan's hand. "When was the last time anyone heard from the Thompsons?"

"July 27th, 2004….Ronald and Katherine ate at the local diner, left around seven o'clock that evening, went home and then just disappeared."

Booth continued to read through the file as he took a seat. "It says here that their car was found in their driveway. Were their children home?"

Fife nodded. "Natalie was fifteen and Joshua was seven when this happened. Natalie said that her parents came home in a good mood, nothing out of the ordinary. She and Joshua went to bed around ten o'clock and when they woke up…their parents were gone."

Booth glanced over at Brennan, noting how tense she had become as the sheriff outlined the events as he knew them.

"Was there any sign of a struggle in the house? Outside…in the driveway? Anything to suggest that Ronald and Katherine fought back?" Booth questioned.

Fife shook his head. "Nothing, there was absolutely nothing. It looked like they just got up and left but they didn't take anything with them." He leaned forward slightly. "I pretty much suspected from the beginning that something had happened to them but I had nothing to go on Agent Booth…absolutely nothing. Whoever did this knew what they were doing…like a professional or something."

Booth studied the other man for a moment, debating how much information he should relay. He reasoned that the sheriff knew better than to discuss an ongoing investigation but Willow Lake was a small town and even law enforcement personnel were not immune to gossip. Before he could decide whether to share the Thompsons' cause of death, Brennan beat him to the punch.

"It wasn't an execution style type of death," she said, echoing Booth's earlier observations. "They were shot in the chest…the heart to be more specific."

Booth sighed. "What?" Brennan questioned. "That's what you said the other day."

"Yeah Bones, I did," he responded sharply. Turning to face the sheriff, Booth leaned forward. "Look, Fife, I know this is a small town and odds are the locals are outside spreading the word that a FBI agent and a forensic anthropologist are in town. I'm also placing odds that most people in this town suspect that we're here about the Thompsons. I just ask, for the sake of the investigation, that what Bones just told you stays in the office among the three of us."

Fife nodded his head solemnly. "I called the FBI in on this 'cause I knew this would be too much for my department…for this sleepy little town. I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize this investigation, Agent Booth."

Leaning back in his chair, Booth smiled slightly, satisfied with the answer he had received. "Good. Now I think we need to speak to the children and any other family members to inform them…you know…and then Bones and I will want to see the Thompsons' house if possible."

"Sure. The kids are now living with their grandmother, Ronald's mother. She's got a nice sized estate near the lake," the sheriff said as he stood and grabbed his hat. "Ronald and Katherine's house is pretty much the way it was two years ago. His mother, Elaine, pays for someone to keep up the house and the yard. It's eerie…almost like they never left."

"They didn't leave," Booth corrected as he and Brennan stood. "At least not of their own accord."

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Brennan perused the file as she and Booth followed the sheriff to Elaine Thompson's residence. She glanced over at her partner noting how silent he was. "You're mad."

Booth glanced over at her, confusion evident on his features.

"At me," she continued. "You're mad at me for telling the sheriff the cause of death."

Sighing, Booth ran a hand through his hair. "No Bones, I'm not mad. I was just debating with myself whether we should tell him everything when you decided for me." He looked over at her again and smiled slightly.

"It sounded like you were mad in the office," she countered.

"Are you trying to start an argument with me?" He frowned as he watched the sheriff's car make a left turn and he turned the steering wheel of the SUV to follow. "Cause if you are, then let's get it over with before we reach the house."

"I'm not starting an argument, Booth. I just stated a fact—it sounded like you were mad at me in the office." Brennan crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.

"Okay, first off, I was not mad…irritated maybe, but not mad and second, believe me when I say that you **are** trying to start an argument with me whether you realize it or not." Booth turned his full attention back to the road while Brennan contemplated what he had said. She decided to keep her mouth shut when she realized that Booth had made a valid point—she was trying to start an argument and she just didn't quite understand why. Silence enveloped the SUV as they rode along for a couple of minutes.

"This is one hell of a long road," he muttered, breaking the tension.

"It's a driveway, not a road," Brennan replied as a large two story residence came into full view.

Booth slowed the SUV and whistled. "A nice sized estate, huh? My apartment could fit in the garage of this place. Does the file say what Elaine Thompson does?"

Brennan opened the file and read for a moment. "Apparently she married wealthy. Before he died, her husband was an executive with a tobacco company with a healthy appetite for the stock market."

"And what did Ronald and Katherine do for a living?" Booth's curiosity was piqued as to what their home was like.

"Ronald owned a small hardware store in town and Katherine ran a licensed daycare facility."

"Those don't sound like jobs where you'd make a lot of enemies." Booth glanced over at his partner.

"Neither did a high school science teacher or a bookkeeper," she muttered to herself.

Booth felt his heart seize at her words. He wanted to help her explore the thoughts rolling around in her head but now was not the time. He filed her comment away, determined to get through this case first.

Pulling the SUV behind the sheriff's car, Booth and Brennan quickly exited the vehicle and started toward the front door. They stopped when they noticed that Fife was hanging back, standing at his car.

"Um, any particular reason you're not joining us?" Booth questioned.

The sheriff raised his head, shielding his eyes against the sun's rays. "Elaine Thompson and I don't exactly…well, we don't get along too well. I think it's best if I stay out here and wait for you two."

Booth turned back to Brennan and they proceeded toward the front door again. Brennan felt her chest constrict and was surprised that she was still standing considering how wobbly her legs felt. The medication had helped somewhat but she couldn't escape all of the symptoms of an attack.

Noticing Brennan falter slightly, Booth placed his hand on her back as a sign of reassurance. He reached out and rang the doorbell, stealing another glance at his partner. He knew this was going to be difficult—more difficult than any other death notification they had given.

The door slowly opened, revealing a young teenaged girl in a pair of shorts with a bikini top on, her black hair slung into a sloppy ponytail. "Can I help you?" She looked from Booth to Brennan and then back to Booth.

"Hi, I'm Special Agent Booth with the FBI. Is Elaine Thompson home?" He flashed her a small smile.

"Grandmother!" She turned slightly and yelled through the foyer, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Natalie Marie Thompson, how many times must I tell you no yelling in the house?" A distinguished looking elderly woman quickly made her way to the foyer area. "Who is it?"

Natalie turned back to Booth and smiled sweetly. "It's a poster boy for the FBI and some lady."

Elaine Thompson reached the doorway and stood beside her granddaughter. "The FBI? Oh my goodness, what is the FBI doing here?"

Rolling her eyes at the older woman, Natalie turned away from Brennan and Booth. "I imagine it has something to do with Mom and Dad." The young girl's expression was serious as she turned back to the strangers standing at her door. "You found them, didn't you?"

Booth and Brennan both nodded.

"I knew they were dead," she announced as she turned and walked through the foyer into the living room leaving Booth and Brennan standing in a stunned silence.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 9**

**Disclaimer: I only own the characters that do not usually appear in the show.**

**Author's notes: I'm glad to see from the reviews that you all are still enjoying this story. I'm not sure when I'll get to the fluffiness and comfort but I assure you I will! Just hang in there! Be sure to press the review button and let me know what you think!**

**To 'elliot02uk' (Jean B.)—I had already used 'sable gaze' to describe Booth's beautiful eyes so I went with chocolate…why that reminded you of Ricky Martin--well, I'll have a Brennan moment and just say "I don't know what that means". (LOL) As for the "(a smile) graced her lips/face" part of your comment, I don't know that it's an American thing but it's a phrase that I've heard most of my life and read in other stories. Interesting observation…maybe it is an American thing. Anyway, I hope you still enjoy the story.**

**And a special shout out to BonesDBchippie—Your faith in my ability to update soon spurred forth the following chapter which I found time to write on a midnight shift, after coming off an evening shift….rotating shifts are a killer! If you find the chapter terrible, I blame sleep deprivation.**

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"Oh Lord," Elaine Thompson gasped, her face slowly draining of color. "Is that why…?"

Booth's hand left Brennan's back as he stepped forward to help the elderly woman. "Ma'am, may we come in and speak to you?"

Unable to speak, Elaine nodded and allowed Booth to assist her to the grand living room area. Brennan tagged along behind them, watching as Natalie exited the living room and sauntered outside to the pool.

A small middle-aged woman appeared behind Brennan, startling her slightly. "Mrs. Thompson, are you okay? Is there is anything I can get for you?"

"Can you get her a glass of water please?" Booth asked as he helped Elaine to one of the large sofas in the room.

The woman nodded and hurriedly left without asking any further questions. "That was Maggie," Elaine said as she found her voice. "She helps me around the house…with the children and everything."

Booth nodded, keeping a close eye on the woman. Brennan walked slowly around the room, taking in the large and obviously expensive pieces of art completing the elegant décor. She glanced out the large French doors on the other side of the room that lead to a large patio area and noticed a small boy sitting with a man.

Maggie reentered the room and handed the glass of water to Elaine. "Here you go."

"Maggie, please sit," Elaine patted the cushion next to her. "These people are from the FBI."

"Actually I'm from the FBI…I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this," he glanced over at Brennan who was standing by a grand piano mesmerized by something outside, "is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"The writer?" Maggie questioned.

"The forensic anthropologist-slash-writer…the anthropologist thing a little more important at the moment," Booth stated. He looked over at Brennan again and noticed that she was not paying attention. "Bones," he whispered to get her attention.

"Who's the man sitting outside with your grandson?" Brennan asked.

"That's Dr. Keaton," Elaine replied. "Joshua has had a difficult time since…" Her voice cracked slightly as she again contemplated what Booth and Brennan's presence in her home signified. "Dr. Keaton is a child psychologist. He has sessions with Joshua two times a week. Joshua has not spoken to anyone for two years now."

Brennan looked over at Booth who rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh man," he mumbled.

"Are my son and his wife…dead?" The older woman grabbed Booth's forearm.

"I'm sorry," Booth whispered. "Dr. Brennan and her team were able to positively identify the remains that were found in an area around the lake as those of Ronald and Katherine."

Tears flowed from Elaine Thompson's eyes as Maggie moved closer and placed her arms around the older woman. "Oh no, Elaine, I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry."

Brennan watched as the women cried together and realized that she was envious of their ability to release their emotions, their sorrow, over the loss of loved ones. She turned her attention back to the patio area and the small boy who was drawing something as Dr. Keaton spoke to him.

Sniffling, Elaine wiped the tears that were streaming down her face. "I need to tell the children." Her eyes, still moist with tears, locked with Booth's. "How do you tell two children that their parents are never coming home again?"

Feeling her knees begin to buckle at the question, Brennan quickly moved to a large plush chair that was adjacent to the sofa and took a seat. _Breathe, breathe…this is not about you_, she tried to convince herself.

Booth noticed how shaky Brennan appeared as she sat down. Narrowing his eyes, he watched her hands grasp the plush sides of the chair and then slowly relax. He reluctantly returned his attention to Elaine and addressed her question.

"Well, it seems that Natalie already knows." He looked outside past Brennan and saw the teenager diving into the pool, seeming not to have a care in the world.

Elaine waved her hand dismissively at his comment. "Natalie was in the mindset from day one that her parents were never returning. She puts on a good show but…anyway, thankfully she has me, Maggie and her boyfriend, Billy, to help her through this."

"That's good. It's good that she has a support system, people she can trust." Booth gazed over at Brennan as he spoke, his words as much for her as for Elaine Thompson. "At some point, in the next few days, I will need to speak with Natalie…"

"But..," Elaine interrupted. Booth held his hand up.

"It's just a part of the investigation. I promise that you can be present with her while Dr. Brennan and I talk to her. Sheriff Fife said that Natalie and Joshua saw their parents that night before they disappeared. I just want to get a feel of the type of mood they were in…that kind of stuff."

"Sheriff Fife," Elaine snorted disdainfully.

Booth and Brennan locked eyes, both noticing Elaine's tone of voice. "You, uh, have a problem with the sheriff?" Booth questioned, already knowing from Fife himself that she did.

"Yes, you could say that. I'm fairly certain he was having an affair with Katherine," Elaine stated forcefully. "My son's marriage was shaky when they disappeared and I'm not afraid to say that Michael Fife had something to do with that!"

"With their disappearance?" Brennan asked. She could certainly buy the possibility of Fife and Katherine having an affair—the man was obviously a flirt—but she couldn't see the easy going sheriff as a murderer. Then again, she had not imagined Booth's FBI buddy Kenton capable of kidnapping and planning to kill her, so Brennan decided to remain open to any possibility.

"Definitely with their marriage troubles," she replied vehemently. "And I wouldn't put it past him to have killed them."

Once again, Booth and Brennan looked at each other, both realizing that the sheriff's "wayward past" would now be a pertinent part of the case.

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Exiting the house, Booth and Brennan found the sheriff leaning casually against the back of his patrol car. Booth stalked over to him, pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and studied the other man. "We need to have a little talk, Sheriff Fife," he said through gritted teeth.

Fife nodded his head, his eyes wandering to the front door where Elaine Thompson stood glaring at him. "Yes, Agent Booth, we do need to talk but not here. If you and Dr. Brennan are ready, you can follow me to Ronald and Katherine's house."

Booth pushed his sunglasses back up and signaled for Brennan to get in the SUV. "What did he say?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"He doesn't want to talk here…in front of Mrs. Thompson."

Brennan looked out the window, noting Elaine Thompson's deadly stare following Sheriff's Fife car down the driveway. "From the look she gave him, I can't blame him."

The forty minute drive to the Thompson house was uneventful with the agent and the anthropologist each lost in their own thoughts.

They followed the sheriff's car down a long gravel road to a small two story white farmhouse with blue shutters. "This is a nice place…not as fancy as grandma's house but nice," Booth observed.

"And secluded," Brennan added.

The couple quickly climbed out of the SUV and followed Fife up the stairs to the front porch. The sheriff bent down, picked up a small turtle figurine and removed the key attached to the bottom.

"Awfully familiar with where things are, huh?" Booth raised his eyebrows at the sheriff.

Without acknowledging Booth's sarcasm, Fife unlocked the front door and gestured for Brennan to proceed into the house. As she passed him, she reached into the pocket of her blue jeans and removed a pair of gloves.

Booth grabbed Fife's arm as he attempted to follow Brennan. "Un-uh, 'Dirty Harry', before you go any further you're going to tell me about your 'relationship' with Katherine Thompson."

Fife peered into the living room from the doorway and watched as Brennan surveyed the living room, quickly moving through items lying on tables and bookshelves. "My relationship with Katherine ended a long time ago," he said softly.

"Define 'a long time ago' because Elaine Thompson seems to have a different timeline." Booth's gaze followed Fife's and he saw his partner leave the living room and walk toward the dining room area.

"Katherine and I dated in high school. She was a year or so older than me and after she graduated, she moved on to college. We kept in touch and I followed her two years later." Fife stuck his hands in his pockets and lowered his head, appearing deep in thought. "Things were great for awhile and then my financial aid ran out. I had to leave college…leave Katherine. I joined the Army at my father's urging and Katherine promised to wait for me."

"She didn't though, did she?" Booth felt a small pang of sympathy for the man. There was no pain greater sometimes than unrequited love.

Fife shook his head. "I was gone for a year. A measly, miserable year. I injured my back and received an honorable discharge…I came home to find Katherine engaged to Ronald. Do you have any idea what it's like to see the person you love, the person you'd die for, with someone else…living the life you're supposed to be living?"

Booth's mind immediately recalled Brennan and David's first meeting in the interrogation room at the Hoover Building and her instant, obvious attraction to the investment banker. The next moment he unwillingly remembered was Brennan kissing David's cheek in the hallway of the Jeffersonian. Booth felt his jaw tighten as he responded. "Yeah, it's a bitch. But it still doesn't explain why Ronald's mother thinks you and Katherine were having an affair."

The sheriff sighed and ran his hand through his fair hair. "She caught me trying to kiss Katherine one day…in this house. Elaine refused to believe that Katherine was trying to stop me, that she was no longer attracted to me. Elaine later told Ronald what happened…their marriage started deteriorating after that."

"Did you and Ronald have words?"

"In a way…," Fife said.

Booth let out a frustrated sigh. "Gee, could you be a little more vague?"

"A man doesn't have to say a lot when he's got a shotgun trained on you. You tend to get the message pretty fast."

Booth's surprised expression caused the sheriff to smile. "People aren't always what they seem on paper, agent."

"Booth!" Brennan's voice brought Booth's attention back to the interior of the house. He hurriedly entered the living room and traced the path she had taken through the dining room.

"Bones, where are you?"

"In the study," she replied. He followed the sound of her voice and located her in a large room containing a desk and a gun cabinet that lined one whole wall of the room. Booth let out a low whistle as he walked toward the cabinet that held a multitude of different caliber weapons.

"Damn, now that's a gun collection."

"Is it a collection or an arsenal?" Brennan questioned as she stood beside Booth, peering through the glass at the various weapons.

"It's a collection," Fife confirmed behind them. "Ronald loved guns. He went to a gun show at least twice a month. It was a hobby and he registered every one of those with my office, in case you were wondering."

Brennan nodded as she walked toward the door of the study. "I'm going to take a look around upstairs."

She left the two men in the study and ascended the stairs, locating three bedrooms on the second story. Brennan entered the master bedroom and studied the family photographs that had been taken during happier times. The room reminded Brennan of a shrine—one that hadn't been touched or gazed upon in years. She wondered if the Thompsons' children had crawled into their parent's bed the first night that Ronald and Katherine didn't come home. She remembered going into her parent's room and throwing herself on their bed, finding minimum comfort in the lingering scent of her mother and father.

The sudden chest pain and shortness of breath did not take Brennan completely by surprise but it still didn't prepare her for the intensity of the panic attack that struck her at that moment. She lowered herself into a sitting position on the bed and closed her eyes, willing the attack to go away. As her breathing evened out, she grappled with her bag and removed the prescription bottle and a small bottle of water.

Although her hands were shaky, Brennan was able to remove one of the small tablets and quickly downed it. As she was placing the prescription bottle back in the bag, Booth rounded the corner and stopped short.

"Bones?" He slowly entered the room, eyeing her carefully.

"Just taking something for a headache…catching my breath…" She smiled weakly at him.

"Why didn't you mention your headache earlier?" Booth looked into her eyes and knew she was lying.

She shrugged, attempting to regain her composure. "It's not a big deal."

"Bones…," he began to question her, only to be interrupted by Fife.

"Findin' anything of interest up here?" He ambled into the room, oblivious to the slight tension between the two partners.

"Nothing related to the case," Booth mumbled.

"Are you two headin' back to DC this evening?"

"Yeah, there's another case we're looking into," Booth answered, his eyes never leaving Brennan. "We've got to get back, see if Brennan's team has come up with anything."

Brennan stood slowly, still orienting herself after the bout of panic, and moved toward the door. "Booth's right, we should be going."

They walked back down the stairs, through the living room and exited the house. As they moved toward the vehicles, Booth spied an object off to his right and slowly walked around the corner of the house to investigate with Brennan and Fife trailing behind him.

"That's one hell of an outdoor shooting range," Booth stated as he took in the full sized targets set up in the backyard.

"There's only one thing Ronald liked better than collectin' guns—shootin' them," Fife said.

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Darkness fell quickly as the sun sank into the horizon. Booth switched on his headlights and looked over at his partner who was once again asleep in the passenger's seat. Brennan's head was leaning against her window and her arms were wound tightly around her bag, as though it was her anchor in her deep slumber.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Booth pondered what was wrong. Her behavior, her shakiness and now her seemingly new ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat were cause for great concern in his opinion. He knew the headache excuse was just that—an excuse. Booth knew when Brennan really had a headache—her eyes appeared weary and she rubbed her temples or the back of her neck, depending on where the headache had settled. And she never, ever took prescription medicine for them.

No, at the moment, Booth didn't have a clue what was going on with his partner but he sure as hell intended to find out.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.**

**Author's notes: I know you all want Booth to find out about the panic attacks…and he will! Be patient. I have that particular chapter outlined in my head…I just hope I don't disappoint. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy and if you want more, press the little button and let me know! Thanks for reading. I would have posted this chapter sooner but my coworkers decided that they enjoyed my company so much the other night, they wouldn't leave me alone to write! Oh, and plus I had to actually work…**

**And 'elliot02uk' (Jean B.)—Uh, yeah, "lead"….errr, you know that sleep deprivation thing I mentioned. Well, it has a tendency to lead to literacy issues too (LOL). I honestly read and reread the last chapter 50 times over the course of my shift at work (the last time around 7:30 am before I drove 45 minutes home to post it) and did not catch that mistake. Please excuse the moment of stupidity…and any further moments you may catch in this chapter, also written while on a midnight shift. (wink) By the way, I thought Superman could see through everything!**

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The movement of the SUV making a left turn into the Jeffersonian parking structure caused Brennan to stir. Booth watched as she slowly lifted her head and blinked her eyes several times taking in her surroundings. "What time is it?" she questioned in a sleepy voice.

"It's almost six," Booth replied as he pulled into a parking space and put the SUV in park. "Angela should have that sketch ready…"

She nodded her head in agreement and unbuckled her seatbelt. Brennan climbed out of the SUV, her legs feeling heavy. She felt as though she was wading through water and moving in slow motion. Placing the strap of her bag on her right shoulder, Brennan moved around the back of the SUV to find Booth standing in her path with a concerned look on his face.

"So, how's that headache?" His eyes bore into hers. In that moment, Brennan knew what suspects in the interrogation room with Booth felt like. The tone of his question told her that he knew she was lying.

"Um, better," she mumbled as she moved to past him.

"Want me to carry your bag?" He turned and fell in step beside her. Noticing her pace was slower than usual, he shortened his stride to stay beside her.

"No thanks, I've got it." She shook her head slightly in a vain attempt to ease the foggy feeling rolling around.

Since they left Willow Lake, Booth had silently debated whether he should confront her about her odd behavior. He knew that confronting her would likely send her running and then she would completely shut him out. Booth knew that he could live with a lot of things but Temperance Brennan cutting him out of her life was definitely not one of those things. Sooner or later, he reasoned, she would have to talk to someone and his current plan was to be the person in whom she confided. It wasn't a strategy he necessarily liked but he surmised that it was probably his best option for the time being.

Upon entering the lab, the couple encountered Angela in the hallway. "Oh hey you two, I was wondering when you would get back." She smiled brightly at them.

"Do you have the sketch ready?" Brennan inquired in a tone that she generally reserved for business associates—not her best friend.

Angela raised her eyebrows at the tone, knowing for certain that Brennan had not forgotten or forgiven her earlier comment about seeing a therapist. "It's in my office," she said as Brennan brushed past her.

"I'll be there in five minutes," Brennan threw over her shoulder as she walked toward her office.

"Well that was a cold greeting," Booth observed as he and Angela watched Brennan walk away.

Angela crossed her arms and sighed. "I imagine that's what you put up with all day."

"Not really. Today was a little better…she only tried to start an argument once. And she didn't threaten me with bodily harm." Not even when I almost kissed her, he thought happily.

"Hmm…so she saved all that attitude for _me_, huh? Well, don't I feel special?" She turned on her heel and stalked toward her office with Booth moving swiftly to keep up with her.

"Hey, hey…why is she upset with you?"

Angela stopped short, turning toward him. "She's not talking to anyone about _anything_, is she?" She let out a frustrated breath before continuing. "She's mad because I asked if she had thought about talking to someone professionally…you know, therapy, psychology and all that jazz Brennan despises."

Booth's eyebrows arched dramatically. "You didn't."

"Yes I did," she replied casually. "You know Brennan has no clue how much talking to a psychologist can help. After Kirk…," Angela stopped before the word 'died' had a chance to pass her lips. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I spoke to someone twice a week for a few months and it helped tremendously. But Brennan won't even give it a try!"

Booth took Angela by her left arm and pulled her into her office, shutting the door behind them. "Look, I completely agree with you that she needs to talk to someone. Something major is going on with her and I can't quite figure it out but I fully intend to…" He ran a hand over his face to release some of the aggravation he felt.

"When Bones…when she was put in the foster care system, she was forced to go see a counselor…you know because of the circumstances of her parents' disappearance and Russ leaving her. When Chicago DCFS sent over the file with the information Jacob Curry provided them, they sent over everything on Bones as well."

"And?" Angela pressed.

"You and I both know that you cannot force Bones to do something she doesn't want to do." The artist vigorously nodded her agreement. "The counseling sessions…let's just say the counselor's notes did not reflect positively on her mental health. She refused to talk to him, to participate in the sessions. From what I read, the more he pressured her, the more stubborn she became."

"Yeah, that sounds familiar," Angela mumbled.

"Did she ever tell you that she was in three different foster homes in one year?"

"No," she replied in a soft tone.

"Her foster parents all said the same thing—'Temperance is a well behaved smart young woman but she refuses to participate in our family dynamic'; 'Temperance is extremely withdrawn and quiet'; etcetera, etcetera." Booth stared thoughtfully at the artist whose irritation with her best friend had subsided. Angela now wore a forlorn expression as she tried to imagine what Brennan had been through all those years ago.

"Ange, I know it's frustrating as hell when she won't talk to you. Trust me, I know, but I firmly believe that pressuring her now…not a good idea, okay?" He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll take care of her, you know that."

Angela nodded. She never had any doubt that Booth would care for Brennan and ensure both her physical and mental well being. "It's just so difficult…"

"What's so difficult?" Brennan questioned as she opened the door and entered the office with Hodgins and Zach behind her.

"Selecting just the right outfit to go out clubbing," Booth quipped, attempting to alleviate Angela's anxiety and not add to Brennan's.

Brennan threw him a questioning look as Hodgins laughed. "Wow, man, I never pictured you as one of those 'Queer Eye' dudes. Although…as much as you go on and on about your suits, I probably should have."

Booth pointed a finger at him as a warning. "Treading in dangerous territory my friend."

Hodgins promptly closed his mouth and took a seat near Angela. Brennan approached her friend's work station. "Where's the sketch?"

Angela hesitated for moment as she glanced over at Booth. "Here," she answered as she picked up a sketch book and flipped the cover open.

Brennan's breath caught for a moment as she stared at the face of the man she had once believed was her grandfather. Angela had managed to capture every detail right down to which direction Jacob Curry had parted his hair.

"Dr. Brennan, we extracted a fair amount of DNA and we've got a rush on the profile results," Zach said as he shuffled nervously. "We should have the results by tomorrow afternoon and then we can plug the profile in the database."

Brennan didn't move. She stood still, her eyes never leaving Angela's rendering of Jacob Curry. She didn't know who he was but she did remember that he had been nice to her. Although he was gruff, her 'grandfather' had been as fair and kind as a grumpy elderly man could be.

"Sweetie?" Angela placed her hand on Brennan's shoulder.

Brennan cleared her throat and shrugged Angela's hand away. "Good job, as usual. Now how do we go about comparing this to mug shots in the FBI database?"

Taking Brennan's slight in stride, Angela switched on the 'Angelator' and pulled up the likeness of Jacob Curry that she had just finished placing into her computer shortly before Booth and Brennan had arrived.

"Deputy Director Cullen called and advised that I have been granted access to the FBI's facial recognition program and database until we have identified 'Mr. Curry'," she said as she typed on her keyboard. "And, we have started that process….now. If this guy is in the database, we'll find him."

"We find him, there's no telling what else we'll find," Brennan muttered to herself. Turning to face her team, Brennan squared her shoulders and exhaled a long breath. "Okay, you all have done everything you can with this case. Let's move on to the other one." She swiftly walked past them and out of the office.

Booth quickly glanced around the room and placed his hands in his pockets. "Alrighty then…" He followed Brennan's path out of the office with the squints in tow.

The group found Brennan on the platform, already in deep concentration as she studied the remains of Ronald Thompson.

Zach took his place across from Brennan at the examination table and waited patiently for any instructions she might give him. Hodgins, Angela and Booth stood nearby and watched in silence for a few minutes.

No longer able to bear the tense silence, Angela was the first to speak. "Any suspects or interesting conjecture yet?"

"Sheriff Fife is a suspect." Booth's answer held their rapt attention.

"Do you really believe he would be capable of killing the woman he claimed to love?" Brennan stood up, placing her hands in the pockets of her lab coat.

"Absolutely! Love causes people to do stupid, irrational things sometimes," he answered as he stared into her eyes. It had caused him to pick up an earring in a crime scene in New Orleans and risk his career. "That would include murder. Besides, Fife is definitely not a 'Barney'—he's very clever."

"What's with calling him 'Barney'?" Confusion creased her brow. "Is that a new slang term for calling someone stupid or inept?"

"Okay in conjunction with the Steve McQueen movie marathon we're going to have, I'm also going to throw in a few hours of 'Nick at Night'." Booth shook his head at his partner's lack of television knowledge.

Brennan opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Booth. "And before you ask 'who's Nick?', 'Nick at Night' is a channel that shows old television shows, okay?"

Brennan closed her mouth and pursed her lips in frustration. "Fine," she mumbled as she returned her attention to the remains.

"Wait, so the sheriff was in love with Katherine Thompson?" Angela glanced at Booth.

"Yeah, they were a couple in high school, reunited in college until he had to leave due to financial reasons. He went into the Army, comes back after a year and she's engaged to Ronald." Booth took a poker chip out of his pocket and started tossing it in the air and catching it. While Brennan found intelligence soothing, Booth found that tossing the chip helped calm him and focus his thoughts. "Then of course, there's the little incident where Fife tried to kiss Katherine and Ronald's mother, Elaine, saw it. Ronald pulls a shotgun on Fife as a warning and maybe…Fife decides to get even…for everything. It makes sense, plus Fife's service weapon is a 9mm."

"Yes I noticed that," Brennan said as she examined the markings on the left side of the sternum left by the bullets. "However, Ronald had a whole arsenal of guns…"

"Collection," Booth corrected.

"Whatever. The point is that Ronald had contact with gun dealers. Isn't there the possibility that his 'collection' had something to do with this?"

"I'm open to possibilities," Booth conceded. "But I think the whole family would have been taken and killed…not just Ronald and Katherine. Why leave any possible witnesses?" He continued to toss the poker chip in the air as he paced around the platform. "No…I have a feeling that this was very personal. Fife remains at the top of my list so Bones, no more sharing information with him, okay?"

"Agreed. What about Elaine Thompson?"

Booth shook his head. "Nah, maybe if Katherine had been the only killed. I could see her hiring someone for that. I would put money on Natalie having killed them before I would Elaine."

"Natalie? The daughter?" Hodgins asked. "Whoa, man…that's heavy."

"There have been cases throughout the centuries of children killing their parents." Zach continued to watch Brennan examine the markings. "Agent's Booth hypothesis is not unfounded."

"Yeah, you know…remember 'Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks'." Booth pantomimed swinging an axe.

"Hatchet," Brennan said. Booth looked over at her, still studying the markings.

"I thought you said they were shot to death," Booth said, his curiosity piqued.

"_They _were," she answered as she stared up at him. "A hatchet was the most likely weapon used to kill Andrew and Abigail Borden, not an axe. The size and shape of the wounds to their heads were more consistent with a hatchet. And Lizzie Borden was acquitted of the crime so that nursery rhyme is wholly inaccurate."

"How the hell do you know all of that? Better yet, _why _do you know all of that?" Booth's crinkled forehead conveyed his confusion.

Brennan shrugged as she moved past him and to the other set of remains. "I was passing through Fall River, Massachusetts and took a tour of their museum. The complete exhibit, not just the Borden collection, is actually quite interesting."

"It's amazing what one person finds 'interesting' another person finds 'boring' or 'horrific'," Angela commented. "Yeah, I took that tour with her. If I had been alive in that time, I would've killed someone too."

Booth grinned at her. "Anyway, I'm not even saying Natalie is a suspect, although…"

Brennan narrowed her eyes at him. "Although what?"

Tossing the poker chip in the air again, Booth paced in front of her. "She wasn't surprised that they were dead. And then she casually goes swimming while her grandmother is sitting in the living room with us crying."

"That is a little odd," Hodgins agreed.

"Pretty cold," Angela added.

Brennan straightened abruptly and stared at them. "Did you ever to stop to think that maybe, just maybe, she's a 17 year old girl dealing with the loss of her parents in the only manner she knows how? There's not a goddamn handbook outlining how to deal with something like that." She snapped the latex gloves off her hands and stormed off the platform, leaving her friends and her partner speechless.

Entering her office, Brennan flung her lab coat across the room and grabbed her bag from the couch. She saw her team and Booth staring at her as she exited the office. Spinning on her heel, Brennan walked as quickly as she could out of the building.


	11. Chapter 11

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 11**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters associated with BONES. **

**Author's notes: Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to those who have taken the time to review. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**To elliot02uk (Jean B.)—(sigh, just kidding!) I don't have a problem with someone pointing out typos…although I did warn you about the stupid mistakes brought on by sleep deprivation. Again, I did read and reread the chapter but I guess my tired brain simply didn't register those mistakes. My plan is to correct those typos and repost those chapters later—more for myself than anything. Now, you can stop pacing…at least until you're done with this chapter. Oh and extra special thanks for the positive thoughts!**

**To BonesDBchippie—again, you're impatience and insistence that I write another chapter are to blame for this quick update. Thanks!**

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Booth quickly descended the platform area and made his way through the lab in a vain attempt to follow Brennan. He exited the building into the employee parking area to find her car gone from its assigned space. "Damn it," he muttered as he began the trek to the parking structure where his SUV was parked. "Stupid parking structure…I need an assigned space near the lab."

Thirty minutes later he maneuvered the SUV down Brennan's street and slowed down, searching for her car. After locating it parked at the curb near her building, Booth let out a long breath, glad that she had made it home. He had seen Brennan angry before but what he and the others witnessed in the lab was beyond anger. Booth parked the SUV and sat in the driver's seat, quietly contemplating his next move. His first instinct was to go running up to her apartment and bang on her door until she let him in, but he knew that would be a mistake.

He slipped his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. His finger hovered above the keypad. All he had to do was press '1' and he would be connected to her cell phone but he knew that she wouldn't answer. This wasn't the first time that Booth had felt helpless when it came to Brennan. He snapped his phone shut and slapped his other hand against the steering wheel.

Climbing out of the vehicle, Booth made his way to the sidewalk and paced for a few minutes. He looked up to her window and observed that a light was on in the living room. Running a hand through his hair, he began pacing again. Suddenly he stopped and took out his cell phone again. This time his finger pressed '2' and he heard the line ringing as he held the phone up to his ear. After the fourth ring, Brennan's answering machine picked up.

"Bones…Temperance, please pick up the phone," Booth pleaded. No answer. "Okay…um, I …. I…just call me…if you need me….Temperance." Still no answer. No acknowledgment of his pleas. He snapped the phone shut again, feeling more helpless and dejected than he'd ever felt before. Booth looked up at her apartment again just in time to see the light in the living room switch off.

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Brennan sat in her living room staring out the large windows, listening to Booth's voice on her answering machine. She wasn't angry or riddled with anxiety—she was numb. She wondered if this was what it felt like to lose one's mind. The ups and downs of the past few days had left her teetering on the brink of sanity and now she didn't feel a damn thing.

"…just call me…if you need me…Temperance." She desperately wanted to scream to him that she did need him. It was becoming painfully obvious that he was her only link to sanity and for reasons she couldn't discern, she was shutting him out and trying to push him away. She reached up and switched off the lamp next to her, allowing the darkness to cover her, inside and out. Brennan curled up on her couch and clutched a pillow to her chest, wondering if the nightmare would ever end.

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At 6 am Booth reached out and slapped his alarm clock off his nightstand to stop the annoying high pitch shrill. He groaned as he turned over to lie on his back, his sheets tangled around his lower body. He hadn't sleep worth a damn, worrying about Brennan and waiting for a phone call that he knew would never come.

He slowly rolled off of the bed and padded off to the bathroom for a shower. A half an hour later, showered and shaved, Booth walked out the door of his apartment and was on his way to the Hoover Building. He wanted to get an early start on a few things concerning the Thompson case before he made an appearance at the lab.

Three hours later, Booth had managed to complete most of his tasks and decided to visit the squints, namely Brennan. As he pulled into the parking structure, Booth remembered his hike from the employee parking area and he made a mental note to speak with Dr. Goodman about an assigned space for him.

Upon entering the lab area, Booth immediately noticed the silence. Usually he could count on the kid and Hodgins to be involved in some stupid argument or racing the creepy crawlers that Hodgins called his "pets". However, today there was nothing but the humming of computer terminals and the occasional patter of feet on the metallic platform areas.

Booth moved down the hallway toward Angela's office to see if an identification had been made yet. He found the pretty artist slumped over at her work terminal, her eyes firmly shut. He studied the face of 'Jacob Curry' on her monitor and watched as the facial recognition program sifted through mug shot after mug shot without hitting anything.

"Angela," he whispered.

"Five more minutes," she said, still half asleep. "Five more minutes and I'm golden."

Booth grinned at her as she slowly raised her head and tried to glare at him through hooded eyes. "Didn't sleep well either, huh?"

"I pulled a Brennan," she answered while yawning. "Stayed until 2 am and then came back in at the butt crack of dawn."

"Watching the sun rise can be a beautiful thing."

"Yeah, if you're going home and going to bed…getting up to watch it is a real pain in the ass." Angela yawned again as she took in Booth's tired expression. "Hmm, you didn't talk to her last night, huh?"

Booth shook his head. "I wanted to…wanted to go upstairs and break down the door to her apartment but I didn't think she would appreciate that gesture." He sighed as he glanced at the program still sifting through faces. "So, no match of any kind?"

"None," she confirmed. "If this guy was part of Bren's parents' criminal past then he was really good at his job. It would appear that he managed to maintain a clean record…or at least stay below the FBI's radar."

"Well, it this doesn't work, we still have the DNA." Booth patted her shoulder before turning to leave the office. He sauntered through the lab toward Brennan's office. He approached quietly and knocked on the door before entering.

Brennan looked up from the file she was reading and held his steady gaze. "Hi," she said softly. She looked as tired as he felt.

"Hi yourself," he replied, offering her a small smile as he took a seat across from her. "Ahem, so…"

"Hodgins' report on the fibers and clothing from the grave sites came in," she said, deftly avoiding any possible conversation about the incident and her outburst.

Booth rubbed his hand across his forehead, hoping that the impending headache he felt was due to a lack of sleep rather than high blood pressure. As much as he wanted to, Booth was not going to force her to talk. He certainly did not want a repeat performance of her anger from last night. "And what did he find? Without using all that squinty language you guys get off on."

"In a word—concrete. It would appear that when the victims were killed their bodies fell on an area of concrete which was transferred to their clothing and ultimately to their graves."

Victims. She couldn't even say their names. It was her job to give the unidentifiable their identities back and now she wouldn't even use their names. Booth studied her in silence as she continued talking.

"I've got Zach working on the partial bullet markings on the sternum and ribs of both victims to see if we have enough to produce a reverse engineering image of the bullets…"

"That thingy you mentioned on the Cugini case, right? That would be great."

"_If_ we have enough of the markings, yes, you're right, it would be great." Brennan dropped her gaze to file again and continued reading.

"Well, I should have a warrant to seize all of Ronald Thompson's handguns from the residence, as well as Fife's service weapon, soon. When we go back to Willow Lake to interview Natalie in the next few days, we can serve the warrant and collect the guns." He watched as she tucked a long wayward strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.

"Good idea. There is always the possibility that the killer or killers used one of the guns from the arsenal in the study."

"Collection," he corrected her with a small smile. "By the way, the people in Documents called and told me that the letter and the map were both written by the same person…probably a male and definitely right handed. AFIS did manage to hit on a print on the letter—it was Sheriff Fife's."

Brennan looked up from the file and stared at Booth. "Were there any other prints?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah, there were several other prints but none of them have been identified yet. And Fife told the Bureau from the start that he had handled the envelope, the letter and the map without gloves so finding his prints doesn't mean anything."

"But you still consider him a viable suspect, right?" Brennan leaned back in her chair and studied her partner thoughtfully. "You do realize that you always think it's the husband or boyfriend…"

"And I'm usually right," he replied smoothly. "Look, I can sympathize with his plight of unrequited love. It's difficult to swallow your feelings for someone and allow them to go off with another person…or allow them to pretend that they don't necessarily feel what you feel…"

Brennan's breath caught for a moment as she locked her eyes with Booth's. "What if that person _did_ feel what you feel, but was…scared?" she questioned softly, a small quiver in her voice.

Booth leaned forward, resting his arms on her desk, his gaze never wavering. "There's no reason to be scared," he responded just as softly.

They sat, eyes locked together, in silence for several minutes, both acknowledging that they had managed to tiptoe across the boundaries of "just friends and partners" without saying a word. Booth had not intended to add any more to Brennan's plate with every thing else that was happening in her life but he couldn't deny the small feeling of elation at hearing her confession, in a typical Brennan roundabout manner, that she felt something for him.

"Okay, it's official—'Jacob Curry' never had the pleasure of being photographed for a federal crime of any type," Angela said in a tired voice as she sauntered into Brennan's office and sat down on the couch. She watched as Brennan turned toward her monitor and Booth sat back in his chair, almost reluctantly. "I'm sorry…did I interrupt something?"

"No," Brennan said as she began typing. "So the facial recognition program was a dead end?"

Angela looked at Booth and then at Brennan. She knew that she had interrupted something and she was fairly certain that the moment between her best friend and Booth had nothing to do with a case. "Yep, dead end sweetie. But Hodgins also stayed late and came in early to get a jump start on the rapid DNA profile so maybe…"

Booth watched Brennan pretend to be busy at her desk. "Hey Bones, I've got an interview at the Hoover Building in 30 minutes with one of the gun dealers that Ronald Thompson dealt with on a regular basis. Wanna come?"

"Sure." She swiveled her chair and stood, grabbing her jacket and her bag. "Angela, call me if Zach or Hodgins come up with anything new on either case."

"Will do sweetie," Angela said while stifling yet another yawn as she watched the couple leave the office. "I don't see what enjoyment she gets out of these hours," she muttered as she curled up on Brennan's couch for a quick nap.

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Marcus Gentle sat nervously at the table in the interrogation room, strumming his fingers on the table and tapping his right foot. "You know I haven't done anything wrong. All of my permits and licenses to sell my product are in order. I know my rights…"

"Especially your second amendment rights, huh?" Brennan stared at the man, causing him to fidget even more.

"You're one of those left wing bleeding heart types, aren't you?" His disdain for such 'types' was obvious.

"Actually she's a member of the NRA," Booth replied as he continued looking over Gentle's sales records for the past few years.

Gentle threw an appreciative look at Brennan. "Really? You in the market for a gun?"

Brennan's expression brightened considerably. "As a matter of fact I am."

"She's not allowed to have a gun," Booth stated. "She's been charged with a felony before."

"Her? No offense or anything lady but...come on."

"Don't let her appearance fool you, Mr. Gentle. She could drop kick your ass across this room." Booth turned to the last page of the records as Gentle stared at Brennan nervously.

"You could?" he asked in a quivering voice.

Brennan shrugged. "I'm not sure if you would go across the room but definitely into the wall behind you."

"Okay, Mr. Gentle…and I just gotta point out, funny name for a gun dealer….did Ronald Thompson ever tell you why he bought so many guns?" Booth closed the file containing the sales records and leaned back in his chair.

"Do I…do I need a lawyer?"

"You're not under arrest, Mr. Gentle. We just have a few questions for you. You are free to leave at any time during this interview." Booth stood up and walked around the table to stand behind Gentle. "However, it would be a real shame if you didn't talk to us and possibly assist in catching a killer….the Bureau may have to take a real close look at all those permits and licenses you say you've got in order."

Gentle sighed. "Damn government…fine. Ronald simply said that he was a collector. He enjoyed guns—plain and simple. I know he had a huge display cabinet in his study. I used to joke with him that he took better care of his guns than he did his family."

"Did he ever mention any organizations he was involved with?"

"Besides the NRA, no. Ronald Thompson was not some whack job living on a compound with the intent of taking down the government, okay!" Gentle slumped in his chair. "He was a nice guy that everybody liked. He never had a problem with anyone."

"Someone had a problem with him and his wife…they're dead," Brennan said as she leaned back and crossed her arms.

"Look, I don't know anything about that. Now I've given you copies of all my record sales and highlighted Ronald's name and his purchases." Gentle pushed his chair away from the table and stood, turning to look at Booth who was leaning against the wall. "You got everything you asked of me. We're done." He started to the door and turned toward Brennan. "Hey, if you wanna call me about a gun, I'll give you a really good deal."

Booth opened the door and pushed Gentle through. "No deal. Buh-bye now."

Brennan opened the folder lying on the table and flipped through a few pages.

"What are you looking for Bones?"

"Just checking out his prices," she answered nonchalantly. Booth walked over to the desk and closed the folder, rolling his eyes.

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After grabbing a quick lunch at Wong Foos, Booth and Brennan returned to the lab and ascended the stairs to the platform area. Hodgins and Zach were both concentrating intensely on different projects.

"Zach, how's it looking for the reverse engineering imaging?" Brennan stood behind her protégé and stared at the monitor where he was working.

"I think we may have enough from Katherine Thompson's sternum to try the imaging, Dr. Brennan. All of the other markings were useless."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good work Zach." Booth noticed the young man's face light up at his mentor's compliment.

"Hodgins, anything on the DNA profile yet?"

Hodgins spun around in his chair and faced her and Booth. "I have a friend in the lab and got him to do a major rush job—top priority—on this and we fed the profile through the database about an hour ago. The bad news is…we got nothing. Nada." He paused as he saw Brennan's crestfallen expression. "I'm really sorry."

Booth placed his hands on his hips and paced around. "Nothing? I annoyed senior agents in the Chicago field office, had a body exhumed, got your team to do their thing and we still got nothing? This guy didn't just fall from the sky people. We know his name was not 'Jacob Curry' but you're telling me that we don't a have freakin' way to find out who he really was?"

Brennan stood with her arms crossed, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, listening to Booth's tirade. "Yes we do."

Booth stopped pacing and stared at her. "What? What's left Bones? You tried DNA and the Bureau's facial recognition program. I don't see what else we can do."

Brennan walked toward him, grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her as she made her way down the platform stairs. "You'll see."

While he didn't mind Brennan holding his arm, Booth found that he disliked the cryptic tone of her voice.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 12**

**Disclaimer: I think we all know by now that I don't own these characters.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and special thanks for those of you who are reviewing. If you enjoy this chapter, please feel free to hit the little button and let me know.**

**To WOATCAPIITON—Ouch, already. Stop with the kicking! I'm already dealing with impatience (looks pointedly at BonesDBchippie) but the physical abuse has to stop! (LOL)**

**And to thewomanwhosoldtheworld—I'm glad you're finally getting the first season of this wonderful show. The character 'Kirk' that I mentioned in this story and "Pieces" was from the episode "The Skull in the Desert". So, anyone who has not seen that episode may want to scroll down to the story now and stop reading this First Season Spoiler………Kirk was Angela's boyfriend, who went missing in the desert while they were on vacation. A skull was found, Angela calls Brennan for help and the squints identify the skull as that of Kirk. The episode did a great job of showcasing the friendship between Angela and Brennan in my opinion, with Brennan providing comfort for her friend for a change.**

**And finally my dear elliot02uk (Jean)—Yes, I did have to mention the tangled sheets. I initially thought about describing his shirtless upper body and toned chest but then that would have taken up the whole chapter. **

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The pulsating pain in his head had to be caused by high blood pressure, which in turn was caused by one Temperance Brennan. Booth held the phone to his ear as he maneuvered around slow moving cars on the highway and listened to Deputy Director Cullen at the same time.

"Okay, thank you again for your assistance sir." There was a small pause as he listened to his superior and glanced over at Brennan. "Yeah, we should be there in another 45 minutes."

He snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into his jacket. Letting out a long breath to ease the frustration he felt, Booth turned his gaze briefly to Brennan again. "Cullen's got everything set up. Just so you know, I _really, really_ hate this idea. I still think there's another way."

Brennan continued to stare out the passenger side window, hoping the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach would go away. "There's not, Booth. Believe me if there was another way to identify 'Jacob Curry', we would not do this."

Clutching the steering wheel tightly with both hands, Booth sighed. "I know Bones…I just wish the sketch and the DNA had panned out for you, that's all."

"You don't have to go with me, you know. You can wait outside." She knew he wouldn't let her do this alone—that's why she had dragged him with her.

"Yeah, telling me to wait outside is like telling you to stay in the car….or don't chase that suspect…or…" Booth snorted.

"Okay, I get it, I get it." Brennan stared at his profile as he drove. She placed her left hand on his right forearm, startling him a little. "Thanks Booth."

He glanced at her hand and quickly covered it with his left hand, squeezing it slightly. "You never have to thank me Bones…not for something like this."

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Brennan found her anxiety level heightened considerably as she and Booth walked down the long hallway of the federal prison. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves causing Booth to look at her with concern. "You don't have to do this."

She watched as a guard approached them. "Yeah, I do."

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," the older man said, "we've got the room set up. I'll need to take any weapons you have on you and your bag, ma'am."

Booth unholstered his weapon, ensuring the safety was on and handed it to the guard as Brennan handed him her bag.

"Clear," the guard yelled. Suddenly the steel doors groaned and clanked as they opened. "He'll be handcuffed but we request that you both remain on your side of the table while you speak to him."

Booth placed his hand on Brennan's back as they walked through the door, which immediately began to close behind them. They took in the small room, surrounded by bars, with a small table and four chairs in the middle of the space. Booth glanced up and noticed two surveillance cameras covering the room, red lights indicating that they were indeed working.

Pulling out one of the chairs, Booth gestured for Brennan to take a seat. He quickly sat down beside her and placed his hand over hers, which he noticed were trembling slightly in her lap.

The clanking of the steel door across from them caught their attention. They watched as Vince McVicar was escorted into the room by three guards. The smile McVicar directed at Brennan chilled Booth to the bone.

Brennan for her part tried to remain, externally at least, as impassive and unaffected by McVicar's presence as she could. She could feel her chest tighten as her mother's killer took a seat across from her. Brennan willed herself to remain calm, mindful of the fact that she and Booth needed answers.

The guards chained McVicar to the small hooks on his side of the table. Booth had made sure that Cullen specifically requested that action when he called to set up the meeting. He didn't want McVicar to lay one murderous finger on his partner.

After chaining the prisoner to the table, the guards nodded at Booth. "We'll be right outside the door," one of the younger guards said.

McVicar sighed as he studied Brennan. "Joy, Joy, Joy…you look good. Just like your mama. You know, your mama always looked real good, just for me."

"Her name is Brennan and we didn't come here to stroll down your warped memory lane," Booth growled. He pulled Angela's sketch of 'Jacob Curry' from his jacket pocket and placed it in front of McVicar.

McVicar, for his part, never stopped staring at Brennan. "Now Joy, why did you bring your boyfriend to come visit me? This should have been quality time for us to catch up…"

Booth slapped his hand down on the table. "Look at the sketch and tell us who that man is!"

"Your boyfriend's got quite the temper," McVicar said as he grinned at Brennan. She didn't respond since she found herself unable to speak. Anxiety was slowly creeping its way through her system.

McVicar looked down at the sketch and tilted his head slightly. "Oh yeah…him. Now how did you manage to find him?"

"Who is he?" Booth's patience was running thin.

"I tell you what lover boy, you leave the room and let me talk to my little bundle of Joy here and I'll tell _her_ what she needs to know." McVicar clasped his handcuffed hands together and sat back.

Booth still had his hand over Brennan's and he felt her squeeze his hand like a small child who was afraid of the dark. Surely she knew that he would never consider leaving her alone with this maniac.

"You got to talk to her alone at the farm and you didn't tell her anything then." Booth narrowed his eyes at the killer. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Well then I'm not telling you anything…unless…"

"Unless what?" Brennan finally found her voice, shaky as it was.

"Unless lover boy wants to swap stories with me," he cast an evil grin at Booth. "I'll tell you how sweet Ruth could be…you tell me what kinky tricks little Joy uses in the bedroom to get you all riled up."

Booth felt his anger rise as he took his hand away from Brennan's and began to reach across the table for McVicar's throat. Brennan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"We're done," she said as she stood to leave. Turning on her heel she started toward the door that she and Booth had entered.

"Tell me Joy, did daddy's voice sound the same? Did he beg you to stop this investigation?" He grinned as she slowly turned to face him.

"How did…"

"It must really suck to find out that your parents just didn't want you. Daddy's been alive all this time and didn't give a damn about you. Big brother took off and left you behind….and boyfriend here, well…after a couple of more rides he'll take off too." He winked at her. "But if you're lucky, I'll still be around."

Brennan quickly turned away from him and stepped through the door as it began to slowly creak open. Booth grabbed the sketch from the table and looked at McVicar. "You son of a bitch, this is not over."

He moved quickly out the door but couldn't find Brennan. The guard handed him his gun and Brennan's bag. "Did you see where Dr. Brennan went?"

The guard pointed to one of the doors a little further down the corridor. "She went to the ladies room….she didn't look so good either."

"Oh no," Booth said as he took off running down the corridor and flung open the door to the ladies room. He found Brennan breathing heavily, clutching the sides of one of the sinks, looking like she might pass out at any moment. He'd seen this before in some of his Army buddies—panic attacks. Why the hell didn't I realize this earlier, he silently berated himself as he rushed to her side, dropping her bag on the floor.

"Temperance, look at me." He put one arm around her waist and used his other hand to turn her face toward his. "Look at me," he said softly. "Just breath, slow your breathing…okay?"

She nodded and tried to regain control. At that moment her knees buckled and Booth managed to grasp her even more tightly, maneuvering both of their bodies to sit on the floor. He turned his body so that she was sitting between his legs as he pulled her to his chest. Stroking her back, he murmured into her hair, "just breath….I've got you…just breath Temperance."

He reached over to her bag and opened it, pulling out a small water bottle and the prescription bottle he had spied at the Thompsons' house. "Here, take this…"

Placing the small tablet into her shaky hand, Booth opened the bottle of water and offered it to her after she placed the medicine on her tongue.

He continued stroking her back, waiting for the attack to subside. "God, Temperance why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

Brennan didn't respond to his question. She was just glad that he was there holding her, comforting her. She was finally in the one place where she truly found solace—Seeley Booth's arms.

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The drive to Brennan's apartment was quiet. She spent most of the drive trying to keep her eyes open, fighting the side effects of the medicine. She was so sick of drug induced slumber.

Booth stole glances at her every few minutes to ensure that she was okay. Panic attacks, he thought to himself as he shook his head. He had seen grown men three times Brennan's size brought to their knees by one of those but it had never occurred to Booth that his strong willed Bones would succumb to such a thing.

He had noticed that the date on the prescription bottle coincided with the date the remains in Willow Lake had been located. Booth silently cursed himself for allowing her to continue working on the case. Angela had been right.

He pulled the SUV into a space at the curb directly in front of Brennan's apartment building. Booth quickly exited the vehicle and rushed to the passenger's side to assist Brennan who was, once again, moving very slowly. Taking her bag, Booth found her keys and then took Brennan's right arm and placed it around his neck, supporting her with his left arm.

"That bag doesn't go with your shoes," she mumbled. Booth smiled at her as they climbed the stairs and entered the building.

After a short elevator ride, the couple found their way into the apartment. Booth dropped her bag on the floor in the foyer and closed the door with his foot. Guiding her slowly down the hallway, Booth opened her bedroom door and moved her to the bed. Brennan let go of Booth and dropped her body unceremoniously onto the plush mattress and sheets.

If the circumstances had been different Booth would have found the moment cute and endearing. He grabbed the boots on her feet and gently pulled them off, placing them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Spotting a blanket lying haphazardly across the back of a chair near her dresser, Booth snatched it and walked over to the bed, draping the soft material over her form.

As he covered her arms with the blanket, Brennan's hand snaked out and grasped his forearm, sliding slowly down to his hand. She pulled gently making a silent request; one that Booth would not and could not deny her.

He slipped his shoes off his feet and kicked them away from the bed. Letting go of her hand momentarily, Booth slipped off his jacket, tie and button-up shirt, tossing the items onto the chair where he had retrieved the blanket. He removed his gun and holster, placing both items on Brennan's nightstand.

She moved over slightly, allowing him room to lie down next to her. He placed one arm under her neck, cradling her head on his shoulder, and the other on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Encased in his strong embrace, Brennan felt safe and….loved. McVicar's words echoed through her head. _"It must really suck to find out that your parents just didn't want you. Daddy's been alive all this time and didn't give a damn about you._" He had hit a sore spot with her, considering all of her abandonment issues. She felt the tears that she had kept at bay for so long slowly rolling down her face.

Booth placed a kiss on the top of her head and tightened his grip on her. "Let it out Temperance," he whispered.

Sobs racked her body as fifteen years of anguish, hurt, lies and secrets rushed at her. She cried for the fifteen year old girl whose world suddenly imploded all those years ago, leaving her with no one but herself; she cried for the mother lost to her forever and the father who was working overtime to stay lost; and she cried for the missed years with her big brother because of her anger.

Booth held her close, his heart breaking as he listened to her sobs. He knew that there was lot of pain that Brennan had never dealt with and this was just the tip of the iceberg in dealing with it. He rubbed her back and continued to place gentle kisses in her hair to let her know that he was there and he wasn't leaving.

Slowly the sobs began to cease and Brennan's breathing evened out to the soft snore that Booth had found so endearing just a few days before. He drifted off to sleep, thankful that Brennan had started healing and that she was safe in his arms.

**Author's notes: Whew! There, he knows about the panic attacks. And while there was angst, I did manage to provide a little comfort. Let me know what you think. Press the button, go on, I dare you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 13**

**Disclaimer: See chapters 1 through 12.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and once again, special thanks for reviewing. Perhaps I should dare people to review my stories more often….I really appreciate all of the nice comments and observations.**

**(Quickly throws a ton of chocolate at WOATCAPIITON) Seriously, ouch!**

**And elliot02uk—I know, I know you said to rest between chapters but this is my last day (of two) that I have off before starting day shift tomorrow. And I just have so many ideas that I can't help myself! I must write! Thanks again for the peaceful thoughts.**

**Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Once again, feel free to push the button and tell me what you think.**

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Booth's eyes opened to find sunlight streaming through the windows of Brennan's bedroom, its harshness minimized by soft white wispy curtains. His eyes traveled down to find Brennan's sleeping face tilted up toward his. He smiled at her relaxed features, taking in her beautiful face.

Lifting his arm slowly so as not to disturb Brennan, Booth glanced at his watch finding the hour to be 7 am. He sighed softly as he continued to listen to her breathing. His left hand gently caressed her back and traveled up to her arm before making its way to her face. Booth used his fingertip to softly follow the outline of her jaw to her chin then up to her lips. He had often wondered what those lips would feel like on his.

Brennan shifted slightly in her sleep, causing Booth to move his hand back to her waist so that she didn't move away from him. Suddenly he felt her arm, which was draped across his waist, pull him closer to her as she nestled even further into his warmth. Booth smiled at the realization that Temperance Brennan was, secretly, a snuggler.

As much as he wanted to lie in bed with her all day, Booth knew the Willow Lake case would not wait. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he shook her slightly. "Temperance," he whispered.

"Hmmm." She moved slightly, burying her face into his neck, her lips making contact with his skin. Booth inhaled sharply at the contact, wishing that the circumstances of their being in bed together had been different.

"Bones, wake up." He caressed her face lightly allowing his hand to then travel through her long hair. "Come on, we've got a case to work on."

Brennan felt the fog lifting as she slowly opened her eyes. She didn't really want to leave the warm cocoon her partner had provided during their slumber. Staring up at Booth, she saw that his usually well coifed hair was sticking up in several places and there was stubble on his face. She had never seen someone look so good first thing in the morning.

"Hi there," he said softly.

"Hi," she whispered back.

"Unfortunately we have to get up, you know? So, I'm going to use your bathroom, throw some cold water on my face and get dressed." He watched as a disappointed look crossed her face. Smiling at her, he placed another kiss on her forehead and then moved to untangle himself from her grasp. "You can start getting ready while I get breakfast."

She grabbed the material of his white undershirt as he tried to move away from her. "Seeley…thank you."

The sound of his given name rolling off her tongue sent a warm jolt through Booth's body. He lifted her hand from his shirt to his lips and placed a small kiss on the inside of her hand. "This is another one of those things you never have to thank me for, Temperance."

Releasing her hand with great reluctance, Booth lifted himself off the bed and made his way to her bathroom. Brennan instantly missed his warmth and wrapped the blanket tighter around her body as she snuggled into the spot Booth had occupied, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

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Feeling better than she had in days, maybe even months, Brennan ambled down her hallway toward the kitchen and the smell of food. She found Booth standing at her stove, his shirt sleeves rolled up, cooking hash browns. He turned to her and smiled, pointing to a stool at the bar where he had placed their plates.

"Have a seat Bones. Everything will be ready in just a few minutes." He continued his task as Brennan watched. She couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips at the sight of Booth in her kitchen…after having spent the night in her bed. While Brennan had slept with men before, she had never experienced the intimacy she'd had with Booth last night. Michael, Pete and the laundry list of others she had shared her bed with had never held her the way Booth did.

"_And boyfriend here, well…after a couple of more rides he'll take off too."_ McVicar's words came back to her.

"You're thinking about McVicar," Booth stated as he placed the food on their plates. He moved around to take a seat beside her.

"You were right, it was a bad idea." She stared at the scrambled eggs and hash browns he had piled on her plate.

"No, not really. I mean we know without a doubt that McVicar recognized 'Jacob Curry'." Brennan's questioning stare told Booth that she did not have her full faculties while they had been speaking with McVicar. "He wanted to know where we found him, remember?" He waved a piece of toast around as he continued speaking. "That tells me that McVicar had been searching for him at some point…probably hired by whatever syndicate he worked for to kill 'Mr. Curry'."

Brennan nodded as she pushed her plate away and picked up a glass of orange juice. "But we still don't know his real identity and his connection to my parents." She looked around the counter and over at her coffee maker. "Why didn't you brew any coffee?"

"Caffeine is not the best thing to have in your system if you're suffering from panic attacks." He took a bite of his toast and studied her, noting how she averted her gaze from him. "You never answered my question—why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed heavily before swiveling her chair to face him. "I…I don't really know. I guess because I knew you would worry…and…"

"And it was just easier to push me away because that's what you always do," he finished her thought in a gentle tone. "You should know by now that I'm not that easy to get rid of." He grinned at her, sending her heart into a flutter.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I thought that I could handle the attacks and they would eventually go away and no one would have to know." She reached out and placed her hand on his. Touching him and reaching out to him was quickly becoming a habit that Brennan didn't seem to mind. And neither did Booth. "I know that I've been using you as a 'verbal punching bag' and…and that wasn't fair."

"Hmmm… 'Verbal punching bag'? Just a guess here but Angela?"

Brennan sipped her orange juice before answering. "Yeah, Angela." Her voice was soft and thoughtful at the mention of her best friend. She knew that she had treated Angela harshly as well.

"You know that you need to talk to her too….do this whole apology thing again. She loves you Bones. You're like a sister to her."

"How many times can one person say 'I'm sorry' in a day?" she pondered.

Booth pushed her plate back to her. "I don't know but I'd say to find out you're going to need sustenance."

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Brennan entered the lab around 9 am after Booth had dropped her off to go home to shower and change his clothes. They had agreed to leave for Willow Lake around noon after he had a chance to check in at the Hoover Building and pick up the warrant they intended to serve.

Deviating from her usual routine of going straight to her office, Brennan walked down the hall to Angela's. She found her best friend working on a sketch, sitting in her chair with her feet propped on the desk. She knocked on the door startling Angela slightly.

"Hi Ange." Her voice was soft and almost child-like. "Can I come in?"

Angela studied the anthropologist standing in her doorway. Something was different about her. She couldn't pinpoint what it was but Angela knew it was good. Brennan seemed better. "Sweetie you know that you don't have to ask if you can come in."

She stepped into the office and took a seat across from Angela. She sighed, unsure how to begin her apology.

"Bren, is everything okay?" Angela placed her sketch pad on the desk. She was going to follow Booth's advice and not push her friend and she sure as hell had no intention of mentioning the word 'therapy'.

"I…I'm….sorry." Brennan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Angela."

Angela dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward. "For what?"

"You know…for my attitude towards you the last couple of days. You were only trying to help. And I would completely understand if you don't want to be friends anymore…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there, Temperance Brennan!" Angela moved from behind her desk and took a seat next to her friend. "You are my best friend sweetie and you always will be….regardless of whether we're having a good time or you're being a complete 'beeyotch'. I just want you to be okay. I want you to come and talk to me when you need to. And I want you to know that I will always be here for you no matter what."

She gathered Brennan into a tight hug. "By the way, you're forgiven in case you were wondering."

Brennan chuckled slightly as she pulled out of the embrace. "I figured that out." She paused for a moment and tilted her head slightly as she looked at Angela.

"It's the same thing as 'bitch', sweetie…only more ghetto," Angela said.

"Oh, okay. Good to know."

Angela grinned at her as she leaned back in her chair, still clasping Brennan's hand in hers. "So Hodgins told me that the DNA profile was a bust and that you and Booth left to pursue another idea. What was it?"

"We went to speak to McVicar."

Angela's jaw dropped at the revelation. "Oh my god…did he tell you anything?"

"We still don't know who 'Jacob Curry' really was but McVicar seemed to recognize his face." Brennan shivered slightly at the thought of her mother's killer. "The visit was relatively short…."

"He didn't try anything did he?"

"No, he just said a lot of things…to hurt me and piss off Booth."

Angela shook her head. "Oh boy. Pissing off Booth—very bad idea."

Brennan looked at her friend, debating whether to share everything that happened yesterday. "The reason the visit was so short…Ange, I've been having panic attacks lately."

Her eyes growing wide, Angela's hold on Brennan's hand tightened. "Sweetie! How long has this been going on? Does Booth know?"

"Since we recovered the remains at Willow Lake. And yes, he does now. He helped me yesterday when I suffered one after leaving McVicar."

"Oh heroic, comforting Booth—very good idea," she said with a wink.

Brennan rolled her eyes at the artist. She decided against telling her matchmaking friend about the amount of comfort she had received from Booth last night. Brennan wasn't sure where their relationship was going but she knew that could no longer deny her feelings for the man who was becoming much more than a friend.


	14. Chapter 14

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 14**

**Disclaimer: Duh-huh—not mine!**

**Author's notes: I downloaded "The Man in the Fallout Shelter" on iTunes yesterday and watched it for inspiration…well, that and to see Booth with his pants down! Cute boxers in that episode! As always I appreciate your reviews and even if you aren't reviewing, I appreciate the fact that you have taken the time to read this story.**

**(Quickly throws more chocolate at WOATCAPIITON—just as a preventative measure and please don't die!—and at Bella-mi-amore—can't have you feeling left out!)**

**To jaed621—You're right, the last chapter was not very exciting but I did feel that Brennan needed to get back on track and mend her relationships with Booth and Angela after her attitude. Plus, she needs to realize she's got the perfect guy!**

**And elliot02uk (Jean B.)—I always, always look forward to reading your comments. Whether it's 'nitpicking' or congratulating me on a chapter, your comments make me strive to be a better writer. So I thank you. And sorry about the shortness of the last chapter but sometimes brevity is key….although you couldn't tell it from my author's notes, huh? (grin)**

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"Hey Bones, you ready…" Booth stopped short as he strolled into Brennan's office discovering it was empty. He glanced around, noticing that her monitor was off and her work space was covered with files. Brennan always cleared her work space first thing when she entered her office. He knew this first hand and had managed to annoy her a few times by placing items on her desk after she had straightened it. Booth grinned as he thought about how compulsive she could be sometimes.

The grin slowly disappeared from his face as another thought hit him. What if she wasn't in her office because she'd had another attack? Searching around her desk, Booth couldn't locate her bag which he knew contained her medication. He had insisted that she ensure the prescription bottle was in her bag before they left her apartment that morning. She had whined momentarily as she listed all of the side effects before placing them in her bag.

He turned and jogged out of the office down the corridor to Angela's. Hopefully her best friend would know where Brennan was. His heart constricted at the thought of Brennan having another attack without him there to help her.

Racing into the artist's office, Booth found Brennan and Angela sitting side by side at Angela's work station in front of her monitor.

"So since we only have one side of the bullet…" Angela typed on the keyboard, enhancing the image on the screen.

"What are you doing in here?" Booth's voice broke the duo's concentration. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at them.

Angela smiled at the obviously agitated agent. "Angela and I were working on the reverse engineer..." Brennan began, unsure why her partner seemed so perturbed.

"Yeah, I can see that. I…I, uh…you weren't in your office and I…" He stammered over his words, realizing how cross he had sounded.

"You thought something was wrong with your Bones and you came running in here to find out if I knew anything, right?" The twinkle in Angela's dark eyes was unmistakable.

"No," he said in a rather unconvincing tone. "It's just usually Bones is in her office or on the platform. Plus, she knew I would here at noon to pick her up…"

"Why are you two talking about me as if I'm not in the room?" Brennan waved her hand around to show that she was still present.

Angela laughed as she turned back to the monitor. "Sweetie I'll keep working on this while you and the hunky agent are gone."

Booth grinned at the word 'hunky' and smoothed down his tie. "Yeah, you do that," he said pointing a finger at Angela. "Come on Bones, let's hit the road."

Dark eyes followed the couple as they left, noting Booth's hand travel to the small of Brennan's back. Angela sighed and swiveled her chair back to face her monitor. "I'd take that kind of comfort any day."

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"You and Angela are cool then, huh?" Booth asked as he pulled out of the parking structure, pushing his sunglasses up with one finger.

"Yeah, we're…cool," Brennan agreed. "I apologized and she forgave me for being a complete 'beeyotch'."

Booth started laughing and found it hard to maintain control of the SUV momentarily. "What?"

"It means…"

"No, no, I know what it means." His laughter had subsided but his lips were still twitching into a smile. "I just can't believe you said it." He glanced over at her and shook his head. "Always full of surprises, huh?"

"I also told her about the panic attacks," she admitted. Brennan realized how much better she felt since Booth and Angela both knew about the episodes.

Looking over at her again, Booth smiled proudly. "Good."

"You would have told her anyway."

"Now why would you say that? When have I ever…"

"When I beat up Ortez." Brennan glared at him, crossing her arms. "You called and told her about that and she came into my office to berate for me it."

"Okay, granted I _did_ tell her about that but only because I thought it was funny that an anthropologist beat the crap out of a gang leader." He smiled at the memory of Ortez hitting the floor in the FBI building. "And yeah, you're right. I probably would've told her just to make sure that someone could keep on eye on you when I wasn't around."

"I can take care of myself you know."

Booth rolled his eyes and groaned at her statement. "Sure you don't wanna take a nap on the way to Willow Lake…take one of those little pills?"

She swatted his shoulder with her hand to show her displeasure with his joking question.

He chuckled at her and remained silent for a few moments. "So…Angela thinks I'm 'hunky', huh?"

Brennan rolled her eyes at his question.

"And _you_ think I'm 'hot'."

"I never said that!" She blushed as she tried to recall if she had said anything last night to prompt Booth to make such a statement.

"Okay, you didn't exactly say that _I_ was 'hot' but you implied it when you used that word to describe Agent Andy Lister…because, you know…" He pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and turned to wink at her.

"The size of your ego is unbelievable. How did you manage to fit it in the car?" Brennan laughed.

"It's an SUV…lots of room…so, you're still denying it, huh?" He watched as she nodded her head, affirming her denial. "That hurts Bones. You and I both know the character is based on me—not Cullen or some other agent." He feigned a shiver as though the idea of Cullen as her inspiration sent chills up his spine.

Brennan pursed her lips together as Booth grinned at her.

"Well think about this Bones…what if I went to Montreal and worked with the only other forensic anthropologist near this area. Then I wrote a book about a case where I worked with a 'hot' anthropologist and when people, knowing that we're partners, asked me who that character is based on, I say, instead of you, that it was Dr…., uh…"

"Dr. Michel Dupuis," Brennan supplied as a small smile played on her lips.

"Yeah, Dr. Michel Dupuis. Michel Dupuis is one 'hot' forensic anthropologist. Now what would you say to that? Wouldn't that hurt your feelings just a little?"

"Not at all," she grinned at him. "In fact I would say that I admire your security in your sexuality as a heterosexual male given the fact that it doesn't bother you to call another male of the homo sapien species 'hot'."

"What?" Booth looked over at her with his mouth agape.

"Michel is French for Michael," she said as her eyes moved over Booth's body. "Gotta say, you two would make a cute couple. He's very particular about his suits too."

"Not funny Bones…really not funny. You set me up."

"How could I set you up when you're the one who started this whole conversation?" Brennan's smile grew wider as Booth's face grew more and more red. "Oh I can't wait to share this with Angela."

Booth looked over and narrowed his eyes at her before returning them to the road. "Not funny," he muttered.

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As the SUV approached the Thompsons' quaint home with a van load of agents behind them, Booth glanced over at Brennan and noticed her tense slightly. He reached out and took her left hand in his right, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"You okay?"

She nodded, taking deep slow breaths. "Fine."

Booth slowed the SUV and parked behind Sheriff Fife's patrol car. The fair haired man nodded his head at Booth in greeting from his perch beside the patrol car. Booth looked over at his partner as she placed her hand on the door handle to exit the vehicle.

"Bones…"

She turned to face him, recognizing the serious tone of his voice.

"If you have another…you know if this gets to be too much, just let me…"

"I will, I promise."

"Temperance." There it was—her given name or at least the only name she had ever known. It amazed her how those three syllables rolling off his tongue made her weak in the knees.

"I promise, Seeley." She quickly exited the vehicle and Booth followed her lead.

"Hello again Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," Fife said as he approached them. "What's with the reinforcements?" He peered past the couple at the four agents climbing out of the van, unloading boxes and tags.

Booth handed the sheriff the warrant he had secured for the guns in the house. "Elaine Thompson will be here in the next few minutes…"

"You think they were killed with Ronald's weapons?" Fife looked from Booth to Brennan attempting to ascertain an answer.

"It's a possibility," Brennan stated, crossing her arms as she studied the man in front of her.

Pulling another piece of paper from his jacket, Booth provided Fife with another warrant. "And this one is for the service weapon on your right hip," he said, pointing to the gun.

Fife stared at the agent in astonishment. "You're serious?"

"Nah, I just thought I would have a federal judge sign off on a warrant for a double homicide investigation for fun." Booth held out his hand. "Hand it over…carefully."

The blood drained from the sheriff's face as he removed the gun from his holster and turned the gun so that Booth could grab it by the grip. Booth signaled for one of the other agents to retrieve the firearm.

"I've got other guns in my home. Do you need to seize those too?" Fife shook his head in disbelief.

"Any more 9mm handguns?" Booth asked.

"One or two…don't worry about a warrant. I'll just go…"

"You and the other agents can go after we're done here." He grasped the sheriff's shoulder. "It makes me feel better that you offered that information…"

"I didn't do this Agent Booth," he replied vehemently. "I couldn't do this…not to Katherine. Never to Katherine."

A large black town car traveling up the driveway to the house caught Brennan's attention. "I think Elaine Thompson has arrived."

"With her lawyer," Fife spat out. "Now who looks like the guilty party?" He stormed away from Booth and Brennan, walking around the house to the backyard.

A tall African-American man exited the vehicle, offering his hand to Elaine Thompson and then to Elaine's friend and helper, Maggie.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, this is Joseph Keith, our family lawyer," Elaine introduced the debonair older man as he shook hands with the couple.

"Yeah, nice meeting you," Booth said as he gestured to the others agents standing behind him and Brennan. "We just need to collect all of the handguns, different calibers, but definitely all of the 9mm…"

Joseph smiled politely at the agent. "May I see the warrant please?"

Brennan glanced at Booth, noticing how he gritted his teeth as he returned a polite smile and handed the warrant to the lawyer. "I'm sure you'll find everything in order. Agent Booth is very fastidious about his job," she said.

"Every 't' crossed and every 'i' dotted," Booth said as he watched Joseph read over the warrant carefully.

"Elaine, this warrant covers the entire house as well as Ronald's shed and work area," Joseph explained to his client. "And Dr. Brennan was correct. Everything is indeed in order."

"My son was…shot to death?" Elaine posed her question to Brennan who turned her gaze to Booth.

"Yes ma'am, he was and so was Katherine," Booth responded.

"And you think someone used one of his guns?" Elaine leaned heavily against Maggie who stood beside her.

"We think it's a possibility," Brennan said gently.

Elaine reached out and touched Brennan's hand as she and Booth turned to walk to the house and begin the search. "When can I have my son back? When can I give him a proper burial?"

"Soon, Mrs. Thompson." She pulled her hand away from the older woman's and turned away quickly. Brennan felt tears stinging in her eyes and she didn't relish the thought of having a breakdown in front of the old woman, a lawyer, several agents as well as Booth.

Watching Brennan walk up the stairs to the front door, Booth knew she was on the verge of tears. He also knew that she was pushing down her emotions again and he sighed softly. Turning back to Joseph and Elaine, he offered a small smile. "Dr. Brennan and I will be by your home after we finish here to speak with Natalie."

"We'll be ready for you and I expect to have an inventory sheet listing all of the items taken from the residence at that time," the lawyer said, flashing another polite smile before escorting Elaine and Maggie to the car.

"Damn lawyers," Booth muttered. He still couldn't believe he had dated one of the blood sucking creatures of the night. He looked up to see Fife returning to the driveway after Elaine and her crew had pulled away. "She's really dislikes you, huh?"

Fife ran a hand through his hair and smiled slightly. "It's a mutual dislike, agent." He kicked at a piece of gravel in the driveway and scanned the area. "What do you need for me to do?"

"Stay out of the way but don't wander off." Booth turned to enter the house and find his partner.

"Agent Booth?"

"What?"

"Do you really believe that I killed Katherine and Ronald?"

Booth studied the serious expression on the sheriff's face and sighed. "I really hope you didn't Fife. I would hate to be responsible for the state putting a needle in your arm."

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Two hours later, Booth and Brennan were searching through boxes in the basement of the Thompson residence.

"I don't know why we're searching through these boxes, Booth. The guy liked to keep his arsenal…"

"Collection, Bones, collection."

"Yeah right," she muttered. "He liked to keep his guns around him, on display. It's like it gave him power or something."

"Was that psychology Bones?" He quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement.

"No." Brennan frowned as she realized he was right—it was psychology.

"Is that why you always want a gun? To give you power?" he teased her.

She straightened from her crouched position and gave him a serious look. "No, I told you why I want a gun…to shoot people."

He rolled his eyes, remembering the numerous times they'd had this conversation, and continued searching through the boxes. "Well that was the last box. I hope we found all of them."

He stood and stretched his tired muscles and watched as Brennan did the same. "Still doing okay?"

"Booth…"

"I just want to make sure…I mean you know I'd hate for you to have another attack…" Although I wouldn't mind lying in your bed with you again, he thought to himself.

"I promise you, I'm fine. In fact…I'm good." Brennan smiled at him as he flexed his arms, stretching his hands above his head. Very good, she thought and then blushed at her Angela-like inner dialogue.

Picking up his discarded jacket, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's shoulder and turned her toward the stairs. As she placed her foot on the first step, something on the other side of the room caught her attention. She pivoted around without warning and found herself in Booth's arms.

"This is becoming a habit," he said softly as he regarded her with a loving gaze. "A rather nice habit."

Brennan's breath caught in her throat as it had that day in her office when Booth told her there was no reason to be scared—of him or how she felt about him.

The moment was interrupted by Sheriff Fife as he opened the basement door and called out to the couple. "Ya'll okay down there?"

Booth released his hold on his partner, allowing her to walk past him. He shook his head at the sheriff's seemingly shared impeccable timing with Brennan's squint squad.

"We're fine. Thanks for checking on us," Booth replied with a notable degree of sarcasm.

"Booth, look at this," she called out to him from the other side of the basement. As Booth made his way over to her, he heard Fife walking down the stairs.

"See the discoloration of the concrete here." She pointed to a large area approximately 2 feet wide.

"It's lighter than the rest of the floor…like it's been cleaned with something."

Brennan glanced up at the wall and frowned. "Two years…plenty of time for someone to patch up any bullet holes in the wall and paint."

"Are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?" Fife asked as he stood behind them.

Brennan grabbed two small envelopes from her bag, as well as a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. "This could be the murder scene. I'll take samples from the discolored area and an area away from it so that Hodgins can examine both."

"Can't you use that luminol stuff to see if there's blood?" The sheriff watched as Brennan proceeded to scrape bits of concrete into the envelope.

"Luminol is very sensitive. It detects blood but it also detects other substances as well, such as bleach. When a scene has been cleaned thoroughly utilizing strong abrasive materials like bleach, it can give a false positive result." Brennan moved to another area and bent down to take more scrapings. "This concrete is very flaky Booth."

"Cheap stuff? Ronald spends thousands upon thousands of dollars on guns but he goes cheap on home improvement?" Booth questioned.

"Hopefully Hodgins can match the bits of concrete found on the victims' clothing to this."

"Humph, concrete is concrete," Fife stated. "I don't see how you're gonna prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's the same."

Booth turned and narrowed his eyes at Fife. "You'd be amazed at what Bones and her team can prove."

The sheriff's apprehensive demeanor at Booth's statement was not lost on the agent and anthropologist.

**Author's notes: Okay, it's that time again! Let me know what you think.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 15**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters associated with BONES.**

**Author's notes: Thank you all again for reading and reviewing. All of your great reviews keep me going! Sorry for the delay in updating but exhaustion finally caught up with me. I decided to sleep instead of giving you a less than acceptable chapter. Hopefully I succeeded.**

**And the award for the longest (and cutest) review I believe I have ever read goes to….WOATCAPIITON! Congratulations! Now, please stop falling out of your chair and find a better use for that wooden spoon! (grin) Like Brennan, I'm not into that whole S&M thing. (LOL)**

**To BonesDBchippie: You'll do anything to get out of camping and back to the land of fanfic, won't you? Really though, sorry to hear about your injury…maybe this chapter will help a little. If not, you've always got pain killers! **

**And to elliot02uk (Jean)—I would love to say that my two errors in the last chapter were purely for your benefit since I can't have you feeling as though you are no longer needed but alas, I cannot lie. My brain and need to get the story out were working at a quicker pace than my fingers! I visualized the conversation with Booth and Brennan in the SUV while I was at work and worked quickly to write it down before I forgot it! **

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and if you do, press the little button and let me know!**

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The ride to Elaine Thompson's residence was quiet with Booth concentrating on his impending task of interviewing Natalie and Brennan staring out the passenger side window.

She didn't envy Booth's responsibility of speaking to the teenager about the last time she saw her parents. Brennan recalled, with great ease unfortunately, the type of questions officers with the Chicago PD had asked her and Russ. She also remembered their causal attitude towards the situation as her world was falling apart. _"Now kids, isn't possible that your parents just wanted to get away for a few days? I'm sure they mentioned it and you two probably were busy playing video games or chatting on the phone."_

As if sensing her discomfort, Booth reached out and touched her left arm. "Hey Bones, if you need to sit this one out, I completely understand. I mean, you could always wait in the car…"

Brennan smiled slightly as she placed her right hand over his hand, still grasping her arm. "You know I never wait in the car when you tell me to."

He returned her smile but his concern for her was still present in his eyes. "If it gets to be too much, you'll let me know?"

"How many times do I have to make that promise before you'll believe me?" She sighed.

"One more."

"Fine, I promise."

"Okay, I officially believe you," he joked as he slid his hand down her forearm to her hand. Brennan stared down at their hands joined together, realizing how much she enjoyed Booth's touch. Even the simplest gesture of holding his hand made her heart race and sent a warm sensation through her body.

"The other agents should have seized Fife's other firearms by now. Once they get back to the Hoover Building, the Ballistics people can start doing their thing and hopefully you can do your thingy with the image thingy and bada-bing, bada-boom…we have the murder weapon."

"Bada-bing, bada-boom?" Brennan questioned, her brow furrowed slightly. "You like mob movies, don't you?"

Booth grinned as he squeezed her hand. "I'm a man, aren't I?"

"Definitely," she agreed.

"Thanks for noticing," he said as he winked at her.

"Kind of hard not to," she muttered. Booth glanced over at her, observing a pinkish hue highlighting her cheeks which caused his smile to widen considerably.

He slowed the SUV and parked behind the large black town car that Elaine, Maggie and the family lawyer had been in earlier. Exiting the vehicle, Booth jogged to the passenger's side to meet Brennan. "Got everything?"

She handed him three yellow sheets of paper with the list for the seized inventory of guns. "Don't forget these. After all, I did tell Mr. Keith that you were fastidious."

They walked quickly to the front door and were immediately greeted by Maggie. "Elaine and Mr. Keith were beginning to wonder if you two were coming."

"Well sorry we couldn't give them more of an exact time of arrival but the search of Ronald and Katherine's home took longer than we anticipated," Booth huffed.

Maggie smiled slightly at the agent. "I understand Agent Booth but well, Mr. Keith is…"

"On lawyer time?" He smiled at his own joke.

The small middle-aged woman chuckled as she led Booth and Brennan through the foyer to the main living room. Joseph Keith stood as they entered and gestured for the couple to sit on a loveseat that was situated between the ends of two large plush sofas.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, this is Natalie," Joseph said as they all sat down.

"We've met," Booth advised the lawyer, who responded by raising an eyebrow. "The other day when Dr. Brennan and I spoke with Mrs. Thompson…"

"Did you speak with them?" Joseph asked, addressing Natalie.

"No, I used sign language," Natalie replied sarcastically. She tucked a long strand of jet black hair behind her ear before crossing her arms like a petulant five-year-old who had been told not to do something. "Of course I spoke with them…I greeted them at the door and then grandmother let them in. Jeez!"

The lawyer let out an exasperated sigh. "And people wonder why I never wanted children," he mumbled. "What I meant, Natalie, is did they ask you any questions?"

"Yeah, they wanted to know if grandmother was home." She smirked as she watched Joseph pinch the bridge of his nose and take a deep breath.

Booth tried to hide his amusement at the exchange. The teenager's smartass answers and argumentative nature reminded him somewhat of Brennan.

"For the love of God! Did they ask you about the case? About your missing and now dead parents?" The lawyer had apparently exceeded the limit of his patience.

"No, they didn't because unlike you these people have some tact." Natalie glared at the man sitting across from her.

"Okay, okay…Mr. Keith, I can assure you that we just need to ask Natalie a few routine questions," Booth interceded before the exchange between the two became more heated. "So, can we start?"

Joseph sighed as he looked over at Elaine. She nodded her approval and the lawyer then nodded his to Booth.

Brennan sat back as she watched Booth turn his body in the loveseat next to her so he could face the teenager. Natalie remained seated in her current position with her arms crossed as if she was warding off intruders into her personal space and personal thoughts. Yep, very Brennan-like, he thought.

"Natalie, do you recall the last evening you saw your parents?" He kept his voice calm, low and gentle.

The young girl nodded, her long hair bouncing around her shoulders. "They came home after eating at the diner on Main Street. They always tried to have some time together without Josh and me—at least once a week."

"Did they seem okay to you when they got home? Were they arguing…or discussing something that maybe they didn't want you to hear?"

"They seemed fine…normal. Well, normal for them." She chuckled as she caught Booth's questioning look. "Grandmother told me that you searched the house, took some guns…you saw my dad's extensive collection. He was a gun freak but he didn't like to shoot anything other than those paper targets in the backyard. He even taught me and Josh how to shoot which pissed mom off."

"Natalie! Watch your language," Elaine admonished.

The girl rolled her eyes before turning back to Booth. "They were fine, Agent Booth. Then they were gone."

Brennan's heart felt heavy at Natalie's words. Matt and Christine Brennan had been fine too that fateful day, leaving the house to go Christmas shopping and then they vanished. She realized that she had been of no help during the interview and although she had not hindered it either, Brennan felt that Booth would do better without her in the room.

"I'm sorry, do you a restroom?" She stood and noticed Booth's head pivot around, his eyes full of worry.

"You okay?" he whispered.

She nodded as Elaine pointed to a long corridor to her left. "Yes, dear, down that hallway, the last door on the right before you enter the den."

"Thank you," she said as she walked away. She didn't need to turn around to feel Booth's gaze on her. After a few seconds, Brennan heard him resume speaking to Natalie.

As she strolled down the hallway, Brennan heard a man's voice coming from the den.

"Joshua, can you tell me what this drawing means?" Dr. Keaton asked the young boy gently. Upon receiving no answer from the child, the man sighed deeply. Brennan peered around the corner to observe the doctor's interaction with his patient.

She watched as the doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, Keaton leaned forward in his seat, examining Joshua's face. "Josh, you need to talk to someone, buddy," he said softly. "I know it's difficult but how can I help you if you won't talk to me?"

The doctor's words stirred Brennan's memories of the counselor at DCFS with whom she'd been forced to speak—only his tone and mannerisms had not been so gentle. "_Temperance, for this whole counseling thing to work, you gotta talk. And I know you can talk, you've given me enough smartass remarks in the past year! Fine, don't talk. You know you're not the only kid in the foster system that has problems…everybody has problems but they're human enough to actually express their emotions. You're like a damn robot—no emotions, just cold."_

That was the first of many times in her life that Brennan could recall being called cold. She had gradually adopted the adjective as part of her persona upon realizing that it was a trait that kept people away and prevented them from asking questions she didn't want to answer.

She stepped away from the den and entered the restroom that Elaine had directed her to, feeling shaky and slightly queasy. Brennan switched on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. She grabbed a small hand towel lying on the counter next to the sink and dried her face. As she looked in the mirror at her reflection, Brennan tried to convince herself that she was okay, just as she had convinced Booth earlier.

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Booth glanced towards the corridor his partner had walked down yet again as he listened to Joseph admonish Natalie for her attitude. He had noticed that the teenager's affect was flat and she didn't reveal what her feelings over parents' demise were. Again, the traits were similar to Brennan's. Booth couldn't imagine the pain either one of them had experienced at such a young age.

Turning back to the girl, he clasped his hands together in front of him. "Um, Natalie, can you tell me if…uh, did your parents ever argue in front of you and your brother? Over things like finances or anything like that?"

"They never use to yell or argue but about six months before they disappeared, they started arguing all the time. They argued over what to have for dinner…my new boyfriend…and especially Sheriff Fife."

"Whoa…they argued over Fife?" Booth glanced around the room.

"He and my mom were having an affair," Natalie stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You…you know this for a fact?"

"I didn't walk in on them or anything but it was fairly obvious to anyone who saw them together…kind of like you and that doctor lady."

Booth froze momentarily at her words. "Uh, what?"

She smiled slightly at the agent's embarrassed expression. "Oh come on, you two have something going on. The looks, the gestures….the way you've been looking down the corridor waiting for her to return."

Elaine sighed from her position next to Joseph Keith. "Natalie Marie Thompson, leave Agent Booth alone about that and answer his questions."

The sound of the doorbell pulled Booth back to the situation at hand as Maggie left the room to answer the door.

Natalie leaned forward. "Look, mom and Sheriff Fife…it's not like it was a big secret. Everyone knows they dated in high school and the sheriff carried a torch for her ever since. Now, are we done? 'Cause that's my boyfriend Billy at the door and we're going out."

Booth nodded and watched as a tall, lean young man with dark blonde hair entered the room. He noted that the young man was at least 25 years old but he still wore a high school letter jacket.

The young man nodded at Booth as he walked over to Natalie and placed his arm around her. "Hey man, I'm Billy Reynolds." He extended his hand to Booth, who reciprocated and shook his hand.

"Agent Seeley Booth," he introduced himself.

"Whoa," Billy mumbled as he looked over Booth's shoulder at Brennan who was reentering the living room. "She an agent too, man?"

Glancing over his shoulder and spying Brennan, Booth smiled. "No, she's a forensic anthropologist and she's my partner."

"Cool," Billy responded appreciatively. "You ready to go, Nat?"

"Yeah," she answered as she turned away. "Oh, one other thing Agent Booth," she said, turning her body back toward him slightly. "Can you tell me exactly how you found my parents?"

"I'm sorry…what do you mean?"

"I mean, the rumor around this small town is that they were buried so that no one could find them and yet…they were found. How did that happen?"

Booth narrowed his eyes slightly at the teenager. "I can't really discuss certain details of an ongoing investigation Natalie…"

"Interesting." And with that one word, she stalked out the door with her boyfriend in tow.

"You'll have to excuse her, Agent Booth," Elaine said as she stood with assistance from Joseph and Maggie. "She's been under a tremendous amount of pressure."

"Elaine," Joseph said with a sigh. "Will you stop making excuses for that girl? She was out of control even before Ronald and Katherine disappeared."

"How's that?" Booth turned his full attention to the lawyer.

Joseph smiled politely once again at him. "We're done here, agent. I hope your conversation with Natalie will aid in your investigation."

Booth returned the insincere smile as he placed his hand on Brennan's back and guided her toward the door. "Thank you for your time."

As the couple left the house and headed for the SUV they heard Natalie shouting from her position next to Billy's classic cherry red Mustang. "You are such an idiot!" She climbed into the passenger's seat of the car and slammed the door. Booth cringed at the ferocity with which the door shut. As a lover of classic cars, it pained him to see one mishandled.

Billy glanced over at Booth and Brennan before nervously shuffling around to the driver's side of the car and climbing behind the wheel. The car's tires squealed as he pulled quickly out of the driveway.

"What do you think that was about?" Brennan asked.

"She was probably upset at the way her boyfriend was checking you out." He watched as she mulled the thought over.

"No he wasn't."

Booth rolled his eyes at her naivety. "Bones, the kid practically drooled when you walked into the room."

"No he didn't." He could see her mentally replaying the scenario in her head attempting to find the moment he was referring to.

"Granted you're not as hot as Dr. Michel Dupuis but you rank pretty high up there Bones," he joked as he opened the passenger door for her.

She stared at him for a moment, registering his comment. "Wait, did you just call me…hot?"

"I believe I did." He leaned in close to her, resting one arm on the open door of the SUV. "Wanna return the favor?"

Brennan smiled as she stepped a little closer to him, invading his personal space much more than usual. "I would but your swelled head wouldn't fit in the SUV despite the massive amount of room." She turned and climbed into the passenger seat, waiting for Booth to close the door.

He stood and watched her for a second, instantly missing the close proximity of her body. Smiling at her, he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. As he climbed into the SUV, Booth noticed that Brennan seemed a little tired.

"You doing okay Bones?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"When you left the room…."

She sighed as she looked over at him. "I just needed to leave the room for a moment. Besides, I wasn't really helping you and you handled the situation very well."

"Thanks Bones," he said as he steered the SUV down the long driveway. "So…home or the lab?"

"The lab. Angela and I are going to work on the reverse engineering image. How long before Ballistics completes their testing so we can compare the markings and striations?"

"I don't know. That's a lot of guns to go through…maybe a day or so?"

"Did Natalie shed any new light on this case for you? Give you any more possible suspects?"

Booth sighed heavily as they reached the end of the driveway and pulled onto the main road. "No, just the same one."

"Fife?"

He nodded solemnly. "Fife."


	16. Chapter 16

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 16**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine even after 15 chapters.**

**Author's notes: Once again thank you for reading this story and special thanks to those readers who have taken the time to review. Your comments were extremely nice…and Howdylynn, I too cannot wait until August 30th! Oh the joy!**

**I apologize for the delay in updating. My last day at work was hellacious and physically, as well as mentally, exhausting. Plus I was left in charge so I not only had to do my work but check everyone else's! Ugh!**

**To BonesDBchippie—I'm glad to see that the pain killers haven't dulled your impatience. (LOL)**

**To WOATCAPIITON—Thank goodness you put down the wooden spoon and stopped eating all that chocolate. (grin)**

**And to elliot02uk—Let's just go with the theory that the mistakes in the last chapter were purely for your benefit. (big grin) And "affect" is a psychological term that I picked up during my college psychology courses. Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary defines "affect" (noun) as the following "the conscious subjective aspect of an emotion considered apart from bodily changes; also: a set of observable manifestations of a subjectively experienced emotion patients…showed perfectly normal reactions and affects Basically when I wrote that Natalie displayed a "flat affect", I meant that she did not respond "normally" to the situation at hand (i.e. her parents' disappearance and now the news of their deaths). Hope that explains it.**

**Anyway, on with the story…hope you all enjoy this chapter and if you do, press the little button and let me know!**

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Angela entered the Medico-Legal Lab an hour earlier than usual for her. Barely keeping her eyes open, she yawned and slowly walked to Brennan's office where she found the forensic anthropologist already hard at work

"My god Bren what time did you get here?" She flopped her body on the couch and fell over on her left side, her head resting on the armrest, dark tendrils of hair cascading over the side.

Brennan smiled at her friend as she answered. "I got here at six. I was awake so I thought I would be proactive…"

"Wait, we left here at 2:30 this morning and you were back at six?" Angela sat up and studied her friend. "Why couldn't you sleep? Did you have another panic attack? Are you okay?"

"Jeez you're as bad as Booth," Brennan mumbled as she rolled her eyes. "I slept for a couple of hours, okay?"

The glare that Angela sent her way told her that it was not okay. However, Brennan did not feel compelled to let Angela, in all of her matchmaking glory, know that she'd had trouble falling to sleep because she missed Booth's presence. She had lain in her bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the way his arms felt around her. Sleep finally came after she gathered the pillow Booth had rested his head on the previous night in her arms. She was comforted by the lingering scent of his cologne as her eyes closed.

"Earth to Brennan," Angela's voice brought her thoughts back to the present.

"What?"

"Care to share what you were thinking about?" She smirked as a blush painted Brennan's cheeks.

"Nothing."

"Wow, when I think about nothing I don't usually smile that much."

"I wasn't smiling!"

"Oh, believe me sweetie, you were smiling." Angela yawned again and laid her head back on the armrest. "It's a nice change of pace for you, Bren. I say smile all you want. I know if I had that hunky G-man wrapped around my little finger, I'd be smiling too."

Brennan rolled her eyes as she picked up a few folders from her desk and stood. As she walked by Angela, she smacked the artist's shoulder with the folders. "Come on sleepy head, we've got work to do."

She groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position again. "Booth's right, you are bossy," she said as Brennan stepped out the door.

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As Booth pulled his SUV into a parking space, he sighed. After putting the vehicle in park, he placed both of his hands on the steering wheel and clutched it tightly. He knew that Brennan would be upset when she discovered what he was about to do but Booth also knew that the answers she needed could only come from one source.

He exited the vehicle and quickly walked through the main gate, showing his badge. His pace quickened when he got to the corridor leading to the room where he would confront McVicar. Approaching the guard's station outside the metal barred door, Booth unholstered his weapon.

"Agent Booth, we've set up everything just as you asked after we got approval from Deputy Director Cullen and the warden," the older guard informed him as he took Booth's gun. "Just remember, if he makes any threatening moves, just yell and we'll be there in no time."

"I appreciate that but I'm not the one you've got to worry about." Booth stepped toward the door and waited as it slowly creaked and clanked open.

Entering the room, Booth removed his cell phone from his jacket and switched it off. He didn't want Brennan calling and interrupting his conversation with her mother's killer. Pacing around the room, he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. It didn't matter to Booth how long it took, he was determined that McVicar would answer the question of who 'Jacob Curry' really was and his relationship with Brennan's parents.

He had contacted Cullen after leaving Brennan at the lab last night and requested that his boss make special arrangements for him to meet with McVicar again. Booth had made the decision to speak with the hit man while holding Brennan in his arms the night she broke down. She needed answers and he intended to see that she got them. Regardless of what the ultimate truth was, Booth reasoned that he would be present to help Brennan through it…through all of it.

The door across the room from Booth slowly clanked open and several guards escorted McVicar inside. As the guards ensured he was properly chained to his side of the table, McVicar glanced around the room.

"Where's Joy?" A smile appeared on his lips as he mentioned Booth's partner.

"Dr. Brennan isn't with me today. It's just you and me, McVicar and we're gonna have a nice little chat." He took a seat across from the prisoner and placed his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

"No Joy, no discussion. Guards! You can take me back to my cell now!"

Booth grinned at the hit man as he lifted the sketch of 'Jacob Curry' from the pocket of his jacket, which he had placed on the chair next to him. "No, you see, you get to leave when _I_ say and not a moment before. You answer my questions, you leave and I don't see you again until your trial for Christine Brennan's murder."

"As I said no Joy, no discussion. You can't make me talk to you." McVicar nodded his head toward the cameras mounted in the corners of the room. "You try to harm a prisoner, they'll have it all on tape…and then you won't have a badge or a gun to protect my little Joy. And I'm willing to bet big money you won't do anything that's going to hurt her."

Booth leaned back casually in his chair and crossed his arms. "You're right about one thing I will never do anything to hurt _Temperance_." His eyes darted toward the cameras as the red light switched off, indicating that the cameras were not longer operating.

McVicar's eyes also darted toward the cameras and he chuckled. "I should've seen that coming, huh?"

"Now we can play nice and you tell me what I need to know," Booth said as he slid the sketch over to McVicar, "or I can get real nasty real quick."

"She must be one amazing piece of ass," he smirked at the agent.

Booth sighed, pulling the sketch away from McVicar. "I was hoping you would choose the nice route. I really hate getting my suit dirty."

He reached across the table and grabbed McVicar's head, slamming the hit man's face into the table. Blood gushed out of McVicar's nose as he brought his head up and stared at Booth.

"AHHHH…you can't do that…you're FBI," he yelled.

"Funny, I just did." He held up the sketch again. "What's his real name and what was his connection to Brennan's parents?"

"Guards! Guards!" McVicar held his nose as he yelled.

Booth stood and walked around the table. He placed his right hand on the back of McVicar's neck roughly and squeezed, while holding the sketch in his other hand. "They're not coming. Now, who is this guy?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You think because you came in here and broke my nose, demanding answers that I'm going to give them to you? You're crazy!"

He leaned in close to McVicar's ear. "If you think all I'm going to do is break your nose, then you're sadly mistaken," he whispered. "I was a sniper with the Rangers. I killed quite a few people…hurting you doesn't really bother me that much."

Booth held the sketch in front of the prisoner again. "Who is he?"

McVicar studied the sketch for a moment before glancing at the agent. "You love her, don't you? You want her to be safe? If I tell you about that man, who he really is and what he did with Max and Ruth…I won't be safe and neither will she. I'm telling you to pack your stuff up and go home. Get her to stop looking into this."

"You son of a bitch," Booth said as he squeezed McVicar's neck even tighter. "Don't you dare pretend that you care about Temperance or her safety. You killed her mother! You're the reason the Keenans became the Brennans and you're the reason she lost her family when she was fifteen! Now tell me who the hell this guy is!"

Blood continued to trickle from McVicar's nose, covering his lips and chin. He grinned at Booth, his blood stained teeth creating an eerie image. "Have it your way, Agent Booth. Just remember when you're holding Joy in your arms as she takes her last breath…I warned you."

"His name…now."

"Patrick Kava. He was pretty high up in the syndicate—an old timer. Real smart man…until he got greedy. We called him 'Gramps' because he was so much older than the rest of the crew."

Booth released his grip on McVicar, walked around the table and picked up his jacket. As he put his jacket on and straightened his tie, Booth stared at the man. "If this information proves inaccurate, I'll be back…and I'll be breaking more than your nose."

As he turned to exit the room, he heard McVicar chuckling. "Her blood is on your hands, Agent Booth! Her blood is on your hands!"

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As he typed the name Patrick Kava into the FBI search engine, Booth noticed Cullen's presence in his doorway. "Something I can help you with sir?" Pressing enter, he leaned back in his chair and watched as the deputy director closed the office door.

"How are things coming along on the Thompson case?"

"We seized a bunch of guns from the Thompson residence, as well as a few of the sheriff's guns, and then we spoke with the daughter. Ballistics is running tests on all of the guns and Bones should have her reverse engineering thing-a-ma-bob done soon so we can compare markings and striations."

Cullen rubbed a hand over his face. "A simple 'very well' would have sufficed, Booth. At least you didn't use a bunch of squint words…" He sighed as he took a seat across from the young agent. "And how did your visit with McVicar go?"

Booth straightened in his seat and averted his gaze from his boss. "Um, fine. He gave me a name that I'm running through the system right now. I'll have to get in touch with the Chicago field office again…see if any of the original agents can tell me anything more."

"Good," Cullen said as he stood and turned to walk out of the office. "I'm glad it was a successful interview. Oh and Booth, the warden called to inform me that McVicar broke his nose…seems he's a little clumsy, ran into a door or something."

Squirming slightly in his seat, Booth looked at his computer monitor. "Really? That's too bad…poor hit man with a broken nose. Maybe I'll send him a card."

Cullen smiled as he opened the door and walked out of the office.

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"I can't believe your theory actually worked." Zach smiled at his mentor before returning his gaze to Angela's monitor and the image of a bullet hole. "I mean I can believe it because you're brilliant and…"

"Dude, you can stop kissing up already," Hodgins said from his post at Angela's desk. He picked up one of her sketch pads and flipped through it. "Hey Ange, these are really good."

"Thanks, now put them back. They're ideas for some work I might display at an art show next weekend."

"Art show? Why didn't you mention that to me earlier?" Brennan queried.

"You weren't exactly speaking to me at the time…"

"Oh…sorry…again."

Angela wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder and squeezed. "Stop apologizing already. It's over and done with, remember?"

"Just brilliant," Zach mumbled.

Brennan smiled at her assistant. "It will only be brilliant if this image matches the ballistics results of any of the weapons that the FBI seized."

"Well, let's start with Fife's guns first shall we?" Booth breezed into Angela's office and smiled at his partner and her squints. "Is this the new hangout in the lab? Cause I looked everywhere first and this is the second day in a row I've found you in here." He winked at her as he handed her the file with the ballistics results.

"Yeah Angela's office is the place you wanna be," Hodgins said as he flipped another page in the sketch pad.

"Oh wow, Ange, that's really good," Booth commented as he stepped over to her desk to get a better look at the drawings.

Angela stalked over to Hodgins and snatched the sketch pad out his hands, ushering him out of her chair and away from her desk. "Thank you…now step away from the desk. Your Bones is over there," she said pointing to Brennan's position at her work station.

Brennan sat side by side with Zach, comparing the image that Angela had created with each ballistic result. "He only had four handguns in his possession?"

"Yeah Bones, the rest of his collection consisted of a 12 gauge shotgun and one rifle," he said as he stood behind her. "So what's the verdict?"

"At first glance, Agent Booth, none of the markings or striations match," Zach answered.

Brennan noticed the disappointed expression on Booth's face as she looked up at him. "He said at first glance Booth. Zach will do a further in depth analysis to ensure the findings are accurate."

Gazing down at her, Booth smiled. "Usually your 'first glance' at anything is dead on Bones. This doesn't necessarily mean that Fife didn't do it…but I'm not so inclined to keep him at the top of my list anymore."

"Who is else is on the list Booth?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Well there's….there's Natalie," he said softly, hoping that she wouldn't react as she had a few days ago in the lab. "She said that she didn't hear anything the night her parents disappeared but odds are they were killed in the basement…"

"They were," she replied.

"What?"

"Hodgins matched the samples I took in the basement to those found on the bodies. In the sample I took from the area that had been obviously been cleaned, he found a high concentration of bleach." She turned her attention back to the monitor.

"So the bleach wasn't diluted with water at all?" He looked over at Hodgins

"Nope, not at all man. Looks like Natalie just made it to the top of the list, huh?"

"Crap," Booth muttered as he studied Brennan's back. He saw her tense slightly at Hodgins' observation of Natalie making the "list".

The ringing of Booth's cell phone pierced the silence that had fallen over the room. Slipping the phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the caller id and frowned. "Booth," he answered. "What? What the hell…? That's really not an FBI matter… Okay, calm down, Mrs. Thompson we'll be there as soon as possible."

Brennan pivoted her chair around to face Booth. "What's wrong?"

"Sheriff Fife just showed up and placed Natalie under arrest," he answered as he ran a hand through his thick hair. "Grab your stuff and let's go Bones."


	17. Chapter 17

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 17**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to go through this every time? I swear I don't own them!**

**Author's notes: Thanks once again for reading and special thanks to those who are reviewing. You make my day and not in a Dirty Harry kind of way…**

**Waves back at Howdylynn—thanks for all of the nice comments and yes, I also enjoy when Booth gets all protective and aggressive. Apparently I'm trying to drag this story out until August 30! (wink)**

**And please Jaed, build BonesDBchippie that jetpack soon! I would hate to read about more injuries due to impatience for another chapter and stupid crutches! (LOL)**

**And elliot02uk—(waves around a pic of a shirtless DB) You will give me the magnifying glass or so help me I will put another Merriam-Webster's definition in the author's notes! (big grin)**

**Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! And if you do, you know what to do…**

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Brennan studied her partner's profile as they drove along the highway. His brow was slightly crinkled in frustration and tension radiated from his body. Booth shifted in his seat and placed his right hand on top of the steering wheel as he placed his left elbow on the door, bringing his hand to his face. He glanced over at Brennan and found her staring at him, apparently deep in thought.

"What?" He turned his eyes back to the road for a moment and then back to her.

"What do you mean 'what'?" She watched as he clenched his jaw, which was a true indicator of his annoyance.

"Bones…why are you staring at me?"

"I was attempting to decipher what was wrong with you by interpreting your body language."

He smiled as he turned his attention once again to the road. "You could just ask, ya know?"

"Okay. Why are you so…agitated…and tense?"

"I'm not agitated or tense, Bones."

She glanced at his right hand gripping the top of the steering wheel tightly and smirked. His eyes traveled to what had caught her attention and he immediately relaxed his grip.

"Why did Fife arrest Natalie?"

"Malicious injury to property…Elaine Thompson didn't elaborate on whose property or what exactly she did…"

"That's just a misdemeanor, isn't it? Why did she call you?"

"Yep, misdemeanor and my guess would be she called because of who arrested Natalie more than anything else." He sighed as he unconsciously squeezed the steering wheel again. "At least this will give us another opportunity to speak with Natalie about what really happened that night. With Hodgins' confirmation that the concrete on Ronald and Katherine's bodies matched that in the basement…oh, I just don't buy that she didn't hear anything, like six or eight gunshots."

Silence fell over the couple for a few minutes.

"Where were you earlier?" Brennan asked, turning in her seat to face him.

Booth balked at the question. He had intended to bring up his visit with McVicar later after he had driven her home. "What? What do you mean?'

"It's a fairly simple question Booth. I didn't use any of the scientific mumbo-jumbo you deplore." She sat back in her seat, crossed her arms and stared out the window. "I tried to call you about Hodgins' findings and you didn't answer your cell phone. Then when I called your office, I got your voice mail. I'm not the only person in this SUV who is a creature of habit Booth—you always answer your phone, always."

"Bones we can talk about that later, okay? Right now, we need to concentrate on the case at hand…"

"We've got an hour and a half until we arrive in Willow Lake. I believe we can discuss where you were earlier and still have time to redirect our focus to the 'case at hand'." As she studied him, she saw his eyes grow darker and his jaw clench again. "Booth?"

He sighed and ran his left hand over his face.

"Okay, if it's personal…or involves Parker…I understand. I apologize for prying but you've told me countless times that friends share things with each other." Brennan stared out the passenger side window and took in the massive amount of trees. "Remember that whole 'monkey see, monkey do' thing you mentioned?"

"When I tell you…what it is that I…I need to tell you, you've gotta promise not to wig out on me, okay?" He looked over at her as she turned her face to him again.

"I don't know what that means but it doesn't sound good." Her brow furrowed in confusion and apprehension.

"It means you promise not to lose your temper and beat the crap out of me," he smiled slightly.

"I can't predict what my reaction will be until you present the facts to me Booth." Keep it logical Brennan, she told herself, even as an uneasy anxious feeling crept through her body.

Booth paused as he mentally debated the pros and cons of telling her about McVicar and Patrick Kava now. She needed to know the truth and she needed to know what McVicar had told him. The truth was Booth had dragged her along to Willow Lake to ensure her safety. While he didn't want to believe McVicar's ramblings about Brennan being in danger, he wasn't willing to take the chance.

"I went back to talk to McVicar," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the road.

Brennan stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "You did what?" Anger briefly flooded her senses as she took in his confession. Why would he put himself through another visit with that psychopath? And without her?

"You heard me Bones."

She continued to process the information, mulling over the possible outcomes of his visit with her mother's killer, allowing her anger to subside. "Did he tell you anything?"

He nodded his head; glad she was containing her anger for once. "Yeah, he gave me the name Patrick Kava. I ran it through the system and there's very little on the guy. I've got a call into the Chicago field office to speak with some of the original agents in charge of your…of, um, Max and Ruth's file. See if they can tell me anything."

"And he willingly gave you that information?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes at her partner. She examined his hands and didn't notice any abrasions where he may have hit someone.

Ignoring her question, he glanced over at her. "Do you remember your parents ever referring to anyone named 'Gramps'?"

"No, I don't. That's why I was surprised when a grandfather I never knew existed took me out of foster care." She leaned her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes. "I can't believe you did that."

Brennan realized that she wasn't really angry with Booth's actions so much as his secrecy surrounding those actions. But the truth of the matter was that she was relieved that he had been able to obtain the information without her being in McVicar's presence again.

Booth reached across the console and grabbed her hand. Lifting her head, she gazed down at his hand and then at his face, taking in his beautiful dark eyes. "I think by now you know there's not a lot I _wouldn't_ do for you Temperance."

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The smashed up cherry red Mustang sitting at the curb on Main Street was the first thing that caught Booth's attention as he made a left turn. "Oh no, please tell me she didn't…." he muttered.

"Whoa, she really messed up her boyfriend's car," Brennan observed.

Exiting the vehicle, Booth stepped over to the Mustang and walked around it to examine the damage. "Why would anyone hurt an innocent car?"

Brennan's lips quirked into a smile. "I'm sorry…did you just say 'innocent car'?"

"Do you have any idea what the value of this car in mint condition is?"

"You mean before its innocence was taken away?"

Booth pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and glared at her. "That's just not funny at all." He stormed off toward the sheriff's office with an amused Brennan in tow.

"Agent Booth! Thank god you're here. Arrest this maniac," Elaine Thompson demanded as she pointed to Sheriff Fife who was standing at the door to a small interview room.

"Arrest him for what?" Booth looked at Fife and then back at Elaine.

"For harassing my granddaughter. That brute placed her in handcuffs and dragged her down here like some common criminal."

"Okay people, let's calm down," Booth said as he held up his hands. "I think we need to have a little discussion about what constitutes as a federal offense—because injury to property and harassment, not federal!"

Fife smiled at Elaine. "See there, I told you there was no need in callin' him."

"Wipe that smile off your face before I smack you, Michael Fife!" she screamed at him.

"Keep it up Elaine and you'll be sitting in handcuffs with Natalie," he screamed back.

"Both of you shut up!" Brennan's outburst startled the sheriff and the elderly woman, prompting them both to take a step back. "Sheriff Fife, why did you arrest Natalie?"

"It has something to do with the Mustang, doesn't it?" Booth winced as he asked the question.

"Oh yeah, it sure does. I saw her and Billy get into an argument as they were leaving the diner. Well, the sporting goods store is next door and they're having a sale on kayaking equipment so some of their items were outside…"

"Please no…she didn't." The agent rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Took one of those kayaking paddles and went to town," the sheriff said as he nodded his head.

Brennan's brow creased in confusion. "Wait, she was already in town."

"No Bones, what he means is that she damaged the car with the paddle." Booth turned back to the fair haired man. "Why didn't you arrest her right then?"

"She took off running when she saw me." He sighed. "Poor Billy. That kid worked so hard on that car….it was sweet."

"Mrs. Thompson, do you have any idea why Natalie was so angry with her boyfriend?" Brennan asked as she watched the older woman take a seat on a long wooden bench.

"No Dr. Brennan, I don't. All I know is that she came stomping into the house muttering about how stupid men are," Elaine responded, shaking her head. "So cynical for a 17-year-old girl. Then she grabbed that stupid music thing she carries around with her and sat listening to god knows what, ignoring me until that brute showed up."

Booth stepped over to the door of the interview room and glanced inside at Natalie. "An iPod," he muttered.

"Don't say another word Elaine," Joseph Keith said as he walked breathlessly into the corridor followed closely by Maggie and Billy.

Fife rolled his eyes at the theatrics playing out in front of him. "She doesn't have to say anything and neither does Natalie. I saw her damage Billy's car and so did half the town."

"Look man, I really don't want to press charges, okay?" Billy shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor as he stood behind Maggie. "I mean, it was kinda my fault that she got so upset…"

"Billy, I'll pay for the damages to your car, you know that," Elaine said.

"Yes ma'am, thank you. See sheriff, there's no reason that Nat has to get in any trouble over this." The young man placed his hands in his pockets as Maggie patted his shoulder.

"Well, that's settled," Joseph said as he checked his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Actually you may want to stay Mr. Keith," Booth said, forcing a polite smile. "Dr. Brennan's team had some interesting findings for me today and I need to speak with Natalie about them."

Elaine and Joseph stared at each other briefly before returning their gaze to the FBI agent. "And if you don't speak to her now?" Elaine questioned.

"Then Agent Booth can always place your granddaughter in handcuffs and escort her to DC," Brennan said as she crossed her arms. "Our questions shouldn't take that long and then you go home."

Booth's smile was now genuine as he watched Brennan's blunt response sweep across the room.

"Very well," Joseph said as he proceeded to the door of the interview room and opened it.

Booth could hear the faint sound of a bass booming from the ear buds of Natalie's iPod as he entered the room. "I'm surprised she's not deaf as loud as that is."

"Natalie, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan have a few questions for you," Joseph yelled at the teen who ignored him.

Elaine took a seat on one side of the room and sighed. "This is what she does when she doesn't want to talk to anyone or hear what you have to say," she explained.

Brennan leaned across the table and yanked the ear buds out of the young girl's ears. She then picked up the iPod and switched it off.

"Hey you stupid bitch, that doesn't belong to you." Natalie reached out to grab the small device as Brennan tossed it to Booth.

"The 'bitch' part I'm used to however 'stupid'…that one's new," the anthropologist said as she glanced at her partner.

"Natalie please." The exasperated tone of Elaine's voice seemed to fuel the young girl's anger.

"Don't 'Natalie, please' me or 'Natalie Marie Thompson' me! Why don't you and your lame ass lawyer leave? I don't need you in here! I don't need anyone!"

"Natalie…" Joseph began but was abruptly cut off by the young girl.

"I said to get out." She turned to face Booth. "Do they have to be in here? Can't I talk to you alone?"

"Well she's over 16 years of age and legally speaking she can be charged as an adult and would be entitled to the same rights," Booth shrugged as he glanced over at the lawyer. "I don't see why she can't speak to me alone Mr. Keith…other than the fact that you won't get to charge Mrs. Thompson for it."

Joseph huffed as he picked up his briefcase and escorted Elaine out of the room. "I told you what you should have done with that child two years ago," he muttered to his employer as they walked out.

Brennan closed the door behind them and took a seat across from Natalie.

"Why does she get to stay in here?"

"Because she's my partner," Booth answered as he watched Natalie glare at Brennan.

"What's your problem with me?" Brennan questioned as she returned a glare of her own.

"Other than the fact you're the reason Billy and I broke up?"

Booth chuckled as he realized his observation of their small spat in the driveway the night before had been accurate. "You smashed up Billy's Mustang because he was checking out my partner?"

"I don't find that funny Agent Booth."

Brennan leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I don't find that particularly funny either," she mumbled, embarrassed that Booth had once again been right.

"He didn't just check her out. He went on and on about how cool it was that a FBI agent gets to work with 'that babe' until I just lost it." Natalie placed her face in her hands for a moment in an attempt to control her temper. "I don't really remember smashing up his car," she said softly. "It happened and then the next thing I remember Sheriff Fife was running towards me, yelling and I just took off."

"How long have you had a problem controlling your anger?" Booth asked.

Exhaling a long breath, Natalie sat back in her chair. "It started about six months before Mom and Dad disappeared. I knew they were having problems…the yelling and arguing was a dead giveaway. Then they started taking out their problems with each other on me. Dad gave me such grief about Billy because he's five years older than me."

"I have to say I understand why he would be concerned," the agent replied.

"Billy's not like that and our relationship isn't like that." Natalie smiled slightly. "He understands me, listens to me…" Sighing again, she stared straight at Booth. "I lied to you, Agent Booth. My parents weren't fine when they came home that night. They were already arguing...loudly. I took Josh to his room and turned on his little radio to drown out the noise and then I went to my room and got my iPod. That little thing is the only thing that saved my sanity for six months and then the night they disappeared. I can't even tell you how many nights I fell asleep listening to music."

"Do you always play it that loud?" Brennan watched as Booth pushed the device back towards to the young girl.

"It's the only thing that drowns out the noise," she said, placing the ear buds back in her ears.

The agent and the anthropologist pushed their chairs away from the table and stood. As they left the room, they found Maggie and Billy sitting on the bench in the corridor.

"Where's Mrs. Thompson?" Booth asked as he looked down the corridor.

"Mr. Keith took her home. He wanted to discuss the possibility of getting Natalie some help," Maggie answered.

"She would be fine if everyone would just leave her alone," Billy mumbled as he stared at the floor.

Maggie sighed as she placed a hand on the young man's arm. "Billy, can you honestly look at the damage to your car and say that she's fine?"

"But Aunt Maggie…"

"You know and I know that she needs a little bit of help…some guidance." She removed a five dollar bill from her purse and handed it to her nephew. "Go get something to eat at the diner and then I'll take you and Natalie home."

He nodded as he stood and then left the office.

"Billy's your nephew?" Brennan watched the tall young man as he walked down the stairs to the sidewalk.

"Yes, his parents moved to Florida a few years ago so I'm the only family he has around here. He's more like a son than a nephew though," she chuckled. "He's a good kid."

"He's dating a teenager," Booth stated.

Maggie appeared slightly startled by the agent's insinuation. "What does that have to do with anything? They are both good kids, Agent Booth. Natalie has been through a great deal…today's episode, well, we all have bad days."

"That's true, but we don't all take kayaking paddles and smash the hell out of classic car, right Bones?"

Brennan's cheeks flushed slightly as she recalled taking a baseball bat and smashing the television that her ex-boyfriend came to retrieve from her apartment. Although at the time she did think someone was breaking in, Brennan couldn't deny how good it felt to swing that bat at Pete.

"Bones?"

"Thank you for your time Maggie," she said hastily as she left the office with Booth hot on her trail.

"Please tell me that you haven't declared war on a classic car before Bones." He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the SUV.

"Not on a classic car….a television," Brennan smiled. "Remember when I told you that mine broke?"

Booth nodded as she continued. "Well, I kind of broke it with a baseball bat while one of my ex-boyfriends was holding it."

"You 'kind of' broke it?" She moved past him and opened the passenger's side door and climbed into the SUV. "Just promise me you won't do that to your new flat screen, okay Bones."

"As long as you don't break into my apartment and try to steal it Booth, we won't have a problem."

"Trust me, we won't have a problem," he laughed as he buckled his seatbelt.

"Why didn't you mention the concrete and the basement when we were talking with Natalie?" She glanced over at her partner as she buckled her own seatbelt.

"You heard how loud that thing was when we walked in?" Brennan nodded. "It's a feasible explanation for why she may not have heard anything. She's upset that her parents are arguing again, turns up the volume and somehow manages to fall asleep with that noise blaring in her ears."

Brennan sighed as she stared out the passenger side window. "Do you realize that we're right back to square one suspect-wise?"

Rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, Booth released a sigh of his own. "I don't know what to think at this point Bones…I really just don't know what to think."


	18. Chapter 18

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 18**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with BONES….at least until the DVDs come out in November here in the U.S. Yay!**

**Author's notes: Thanks again to all of you who are reading and special thanks to those of you who are reviewing. It seems my author's notes are becoming longer and longer with each chapter! (LOL) I had this chapter ready on Sunday morning but the Document Manager was being snarky all day and would not allow me to upload the document and post it! ACK!**

**To the-tangoing-mango-addict—(looks around at the messy room) Yeah, go ahead and blame that on me…other reviewers have accused me of torturing them and trying to kill them (looks pointedly at WOATCAPIITON and BonesDBchippie) so adding a messy room to my conscience is not a big deal. Thanks for going out on a limb and reading this angst-fest of a fic. I hope you enjoy the rest of it.**

**To jaed621—You're just a regular little investigator aren't you? (grin) Keep your eyes open for more clues…sometimes I just subconsciously throw them into the mix.**

**And of course to elliot02uk—I wrote that line "constitutes as a federal crime" without and with the 'as' since it sounded funny to me both ways. I finally gave up and stuck with the 'as'…hmmm….anyway, now thanks to you I'm also seeing Booth as a "high stepping horse". (LOL) Oh and stop going through my rough drafts! (takes papers away) Great, now I can't include the axe-wielding Natalie scene! (big grin)**

**Okay everyone, I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you do…well press the little button and let me know. Go ahead, it won't hurt you…Booth promises! (hangs head in shame…yes, I just played the Booth card)**

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"Would you like something to drink?" Brennan asked as she and Booth entered her apartment.

"Yeah, whatever you got," he answered as he removed his jacket and placed it on the back of one of the bar stools at her kitchen counter. "You know I was surprised that you didn't want to go back to the lab."

After handing him a bottle of water, she opened her own. "It's late plus there's not really anything else we can do on this case until your Ballistics team sends you the reports on the remaining firearms."

He sipped his water and sighed as he took a seat on her couch. "You didn't have any beer?" He looked up at her with brown puppy dog eyes.

Taking a seat beside him, Brennan smiled. "I can't mix alcohol with the medication for the panic attacks…"

"But _I'm_ not taking any medication," Booth whined.

"True, but I'm not going to sit here and watch you enjoy one of my nice cold beers when I can't indulge in one myself." She grinned at her partner's crestfallen expression.

Booth rolled his eyes and leaned forward to grab the remote control to the television from the coffee table. After flipping through a few channels, he settled on ESPN, removed his shoes and propped his feet on the area of the table where he had picked up the remote. "Let's see some football scores," he requested of the sportscasters.

"Um, what are you doing?" Brennan turned her body on the couch so that she was facing him with her left leg tucked under her, touching Booth's right leg.

"Checking out football scores Bones…oh come on, what's with Florida State losing to…"

"No Booth, I mean….well, I mean what are you doing?" She propped her left elbow on the back of the couch and ran her hand through her long hair. Booth sat mesmerized momentarily by the sight.

"Booth?"

"Oh I…uh, do you want me to go?" He moved his feet from the coffee table and leaned forward to grab his shoes.

Brennan placed her right hand on his chest and pushed him back against the couch. "I didn't say that I wanted you to go. You've been acting a little weird…"

"No I haven't."

"What exactly did Vince McVicar say to you today Booth?" She watched as he averted his gaze from her and reached for his bottle of water.

"You sure I can't have a beer?" He glanced over at her and grinned.

"Tell me what happened and I'll consider it."

"That's blackmail. Besides Bones, if I really want a beer I can walk into your kitchen and get one," he stated in a triumphant tone.

Shaking her head, Brennan smiled at him. "Booth I'm fairly certain that you will never open the refrigerator in my apartment again. It took you a whole month before you would even walk into the kitchen."

"You noticed that, huh?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yes, just as I noticed that your behavior has been a little weird today." Brennan extended her right hand placing it under his chin and turned his face toward her. "Tell me."

A jolt of electricity passed through his body as she touched his face. He found himself wanting to tell her everything…but none of it was about her mother's killer. Booth removed her hand from his face and held it in his own.

"I told you, Bones, he gave me the name Patrick Kava and I'm tracking that information down."

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "There's something else."

Booth squeezed her hand as he ran his other hand through his dark hair. "Bones…"

"I deserve to know Booth. I deserve to know all of the facts and even the conjecture, good or bad," she stated in a firm tone as she squeezed his hand in return.

"He said…he said that we needed to stop looking into this matter or…" Booth closed his eyes, feeling sick at the thought of Brennan in danger.

"Or what Booth?"

"Or…your blood would be on my hands," he answered softly.

Brennan stared at the man she trusted more than anyone else in the world. He appeared shaken by McVicar's words and she couldn't decipher whether it was because Booth believed the hit man or if it was something more. "Booth, you said yourself that he's a pathological liar. Why would believe anything he has to say now?"

"I don't know Bones. I just don't want to take any chances." The concern for her was more than evident in his dark brown eyes as he turned his gaze to her.

"So you decided to take up residence on my couch and check out football scores in order to keep an eye on me?" she joked.

He chuckled as he watched a smile play upon her lips. "Well that and your television is much better than mine."

Brennan's gaze traveled to their hands still clasped together in Booth's lap. "How did you get the information from him Booth? I know he didn't volunteer it out of the goodness of his heart."

Booth watched her for a moment and then he too looked down at their hands intertwined with each other. "I kind of broke his nose," he replied softly.

"Is that the same way I 'kind of' broke my television?" she asked with a smirk.

"Depends. Did you feel pretty damn good about breaking your television?"

"Definitely."

Booth gave her his full charm smile making her heart flutter. "Then it was definitely the same 'kind of'."

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Flipping the poker chip in the air and catching it as he walked down one of the corridors of the lab, Booth glanced around attempting to locate Brennan. He entered her office and found it empty and strangely silent. As he exited the office to continue his search, he noticed that the eerie silence was present throughout the lab.

Scanning his id card, Booth took the stairs to the platform area two at a time. He found Brennan's team gathered around one of the examination tables, a sheet covering a set of remains in front of them. He noticed that the squints were staring forlornly at him.

"Hey Ange, Hodgins…kid…where's Bones?" He looked around the area waiting for their leader to appear.

"You should know Booth," Angela replied as she started crying. "It's your fault. You should know."

"What the hell are you talking about? What should I know?" Booth looked from one squint to the next.

"We should have known better than to trust you man," Hodgins said heatedly as he turned to leave the platform.

"What?" Booth turned toward Zach who was now staring at the sheet covered remains with tears streaming down his face.

Zach lifted the sheet, revealing Brennan's lifeless body lying on the table, her lab coat covered with blood. "Her blood is on your hands Agent Booth."

Staring down at his hands, Booth discovered they were covered with a crimson red liquid. "No," he shouted as he collapsed against the examination table. "NO!"

Booth sat up, shaking, his face covered with a sheer layer of perspiration. His eyes darted around the room and he realized that he was in Brennan's apartment, lying on her couch.

"Temperance," he muttered, still slightly panic-stricken by the nightmare. Booth shoved himself off the couch and quickly but quietly made his way down the hall to Brennan's bedroom.

As he slowly opened the door, he saw her lying on her left side, her left hand tucked under her pillow and a serene expression on her face. He slowly let out the breath he'd been holding before he entered the room. She could be mad at him all she wanted but Booth decided that he would sleep better knowing for a fact that she was safe. And what better way to ensure her safety than by sleeping in the same bed, he reasoned.

Walking around to the other side of the bed, Booth pulled back the covers and laid down. He gradually made his way over to Brennan's side of the bed, careful not to disturb her. He placed his right hand on her hip and settled his head onto the pillow. The remainder of the night was nightmare free for the special agent.

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The sound of rain pounding against the windows caused Brennan's eyes to flutter open. Dark clouds rolled past the windows and thunder could be heard in the distance. She groaned slightly at the thought of a messy rainy day. Snuggling deeper into the warmth of the bed, her mind suddenly registered that she was not the only person in her bed. As if in response to her sudden realization, Brennan felt someone's warm breath on the back of her neck as she heard Booth mumble in his sleep.

She then felt the strong well muscled arm that lying across her waist pull her closer to him. Brennan relaxed against him, allowing the rain and Booth's presence to lull her back to sleep.

"Temperance," he mumbled as he nuzzled his face closer to the nape of her neck.

She smiled as she placed her hand over the top of his where it rested against her abdomen. "This is definitely becoming a nice habit," she muttered as she drifted back to sleep.

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A clap of thunder startled Booth into consciousness. He yawned as he stretched and then realized that Brennan was no longer lying in bed beside him. Recalling his nightmare, he jumped off the bed and began searching for her.

"Bones," he called, attempting to keep the panic out of his voice.

"In here Booth." He found her standing in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal. "Cornflakes?" She shook the box at him as she took in his disheveled appearance. A little bit of stubble and mussed hair did not take away from Seeley Booth's looks at all.

"Uh, sure. What time is it?" He yawned again and took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"Eight o'clock. I decided to let you sleep for a little while." She placed a bowl of cornflakes in front of him as she took the seat beside him. "You seemed pretty tired."

"Yeah, I guess I was." He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to ask why he had been in her bed.

"I guess you can drop me at the lab before you go home to change," she said as she picked up her glass of orange juice. "Ballistics should have the remaining results for you today, right?"

He nodded his head slowly. Apparently she intended to ignore his presence in her bed. "Yes Bones, they should. I can probably have that stuff to your office early this afternoon."

"Good." She stood and walked back into the kitchen, placing her empty bowl in the sink. "I'm ready to go when you are."

Taking the hint, Booth slid off the stool and ambled down the hallway to retrieve his dress shirt and splash cold water on his face.

"Booth?"

He turned around to find her smiling at him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue jeans.

"Yeah Bones."

"Did you sleep well last night?" He saw the light dancing in her bright blue eyes as she stared at him.

Grinning sheepishly, he averted his gaze briefly to the hardwood floor. "Um, yeah…Temperance…I did."

As he raised his head to look at her again, he noticed that her smile had not disappeared. "Good. So did I."

**Author's notes: I decided that since I've thrown so much angst into this story, you all deserved a little more B/B fluff. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 19**

**Disclaimer: As much I would enjoy owning the characters (especially Booth), alas they are not mine.**

**Author's notes: First, let me begin by thanking everyone for reading and giving a special shout out to those of you who continue to leave very funny, comforting and insightful reviews. A special thank you to ataralasse for trying to get the reviews to 200—they'll get there eventually. (wink) And a special thank you to fan2bones and Ashley Booth for your nice comments. And a big YOU'RE WELCOME to BonesDBchippie!**

**Second, I give you fluff over angst and what happens? You demand more! You demand kissing and…well, I think we all get the picture here. (brings in chalk board) Okay, let's review the first season. In "The Man in the Bear", Brennan makes a comment to Dr. Goodman about why he is sending her to Aurora with Booth—something to the effect of "Do you want me to sleep with Booth?". Now at this point I think we all know the good doctor would have jumped into bed with that very special agent if for no other reason than recreation. (grin) As the season progressed we saw an actual friendship develop between the two and in my opinion, we saw Booth become aware of certain feelings he's been harboring for our favorite forensic anthropologist. I certainly believe that if these two were going to fall into bed together, it would have happened after "Two Bodies in the Lab"—I mean, come on, injured Booth to the rescue! No woman, not even Brennan, should have been able to resist that! But she did and we had to see David again. (looks at chalk board and the very lame stick figures I've drawn) I'm a writer damn it, not an artist!**

**Third, thanks to your reviews Booth and Brennan have been arguing now about the progression of their relationship. Booth of course believes that Brennan would have already undressed him and totally taken advantage of him. (oh my) Brennan, on the hand, has continued to be logical and admits that she likes Booth as more than a friend but is concerned about the ramifications a romantic relationship would have on their work. (rolls eyes) I completely understand why Angela gets so exasperated with her! (glances over to see Booth removing his shirt) Okay, read, review, and enjoy…sayanora! (Hey Jean, that's the only Japanese I know…well, besides Toyota and Mitsubishi…and sushi…you get the gist--LOL)**

**I'm officially on a sugar high from the chocolate chip cookie from the-tangoing-mango-addict and the chocolate from Bella-mi-amore so excuse the rambling. (LOL)**

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Sitting in traffic, Booth watched the SUV's windshield wipers work at furious pace against the pouring rain. The day was gloomy and dark, lit occasionally by flashes of lightening but he didn't notice any of it. He was still riding a wave of euphoria that Brennan had, in her own way of course, acknowledged his presence in her bed and had not been upset about it. While the other motorists around him honked their horns at the traffic to show their displeasure, Booth sat in his SUV smiling.

After pulling into the parking deck of the Hoover Building, he sauntered to the main building and made his way to his office. A few cups of coffee and several frustrating phone calls to the Chicago field office later, Booth's smile had become a snarl.

"Yes, I need to speak to Special Agent Charles Andrews." He paused and listened to the secretary on the phone. "I understand that he's busy…I'm busy too. Look, just interrupt him for two seconds…." Another pause as he was interrupted yet again. "Okay, Nancy…it was Nancy, wasn't it?...lovely name…it is imperative that I speak with Agent Andrews right now."

Booth leaned back in his chair and patiently listened to Nancy the secretary list the numerous reasons she could not and would not interrupt Agent Andrews' meeting. Placing a pencil between his fingers, Booth snapped the writing implement in half. "Nancy, I will make a little prediction here. If you go into his office and whisper the names Patrick Kava and Max Keenan in his ear, he'll throw everything else aside…..yes, Nancy I absolutely believe that…no, I'm not psychic…." He rolled his eyes at the naïve young secretary's questions.

Thirty seconds later he heard the booming voice of Agent Andrews in his ear. "Who the hell is this and what information do you have on Patrick Kava and Max Keenan!"

Booth leaned forward in his chair, gripping the phone tightly in his right hand. "Agent Andrews, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth with the DC bureau. I've gathered some information regarding the cases of Patrick Kava and Max and Ruth Keenan but I need your help in filling in some blanks sir."

"You've got information but you need information?"

"Yes sir. I'll explain everything in just a moment. Can you tell me more about Patrick Kava? I ran his name through the FBI search engine and received very little intel apart from his name, date of birth and a list of misdemeanors he was convicted of as a teenager."

"Agent Booth, why are you looking into this matter?"

Booth sighed. It appeared that he was going to have to share his part of the investigation first. "Agent Andrews, I work with a forensic anthropologist who identified the remains of her missing mother approximately four months ago. That missing woman was Ruth Keenan."

"Ruth's dead huh? We all assumed that she and Max had been killed by the syndicate….although we didn't know about any children."

"Max and Ruth ran from the syndicate. They changed their names, their children's names and lived a relatively normal existence for a number of years until someone from the syndicate made them. Then they left…their lives and their children." Booth ran his left hand through his hair. He was frustrated just relaying the wild truth of Max and Ruth Keenan. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Brennan felt.

"Wait…are you the agent who had Vince McVicar taken out of the Witness Protection Program and placed in prison on murder charges?"

"Yes, Ruth Keenan's murder. Her daughter, my partner, was able to identify the weapon he used to kill her mother."

"What other new information do you have Agent Booth?"

"How about you share a little something with me first Agent Andrews? What was Patrick Kava's standing with the syndicate?"

The older agent chuckled. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. Fine. Kava was a damn smart criminal….he got caught for small petty crimes as a teenager and learned quickly from his mistakes. He was never caught again…although he was a suspect in several robberies but there was no solid evidence. Kava managed to work his way up in the syndicate. All the intel we gathered at the time suggested that he brought Max and Ruth into the 'family' so to speak. Shortly after Max and Ruth disappeared from our radar, Kava was purported to have been killed in a car accident."

"He wasn't," Booth stated.

Now it was the older agent's turn to sigh. "I figured as much, although I really did believe he was dead….I just thought McVicar got him. The car accident was real hinky. Car goes off a bridge into a river and there's no body to be found."

"Why would McVicar go after Patrick Kava?" Booth's brow furrowed at the tangled web of deceit in which Brennan's parents had been involved.

"Rumor was that Kava funneled about five million dollars from the syndicate's nest egg over the years…most of it done with the assistance of Max Keenan."

"Five million dollars?" Booth let out a low whistle. "Yeah, that's reason enough to want someone dead."

"Exactly, Agent Booth, exactly. Now besides Ruth's demise, what other information do you have?"

"Patrick Kava wasn't killed by McVicar or anyone. He lived to be an old man under the name Jacob Curry. After her parents disappeared, my partner was placed in the foster care system and Jacob Curry showed up claiming to be her grandfather."

"Well Kava was known as 'Gramps'. How did you manage to figure all of this out?"

"Unfortunately, I had to talk to McVicar."

"Yeah, he's a piece of work. Crazy son of bitch….what other information do you have on Max Keenan? Was his body found with Ruth's?"

"Um, no….I have reason to believe that Max is still alive and on the run." Booth didn't feel the need to inform the other agent that he had personally heard Max's terrified pleading voice on Brennan's answering machine.

"If he's smart, he'll stay on the run. This syndicate has a long memory and I can guarantee that fifteen years has done nothing to dull the betrayal he and Kava perpetrated. Look Agent Booth, I'll send over copies of all of my files and notes on Kava and the Keenans…you can return the favor by sending me copies of your findings. Deal?"

"Yes sir, I believe that can be arranged. Thank you for time Agent Andrews." Booth placed the phone back in the cradle and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He had news for Brennan. And while it wasn't necessarily good news, it provided a few more answers than they previously had.

A knock on his door startled Booth. He glanced up to find a member of the Ballistics team standing his doorway. "Agent Booth, I'm sorry to interrupt but I have the remaining results you requested."

The young man entered the office and deposited the stack of files on Booth's desk. "Whoa, Bones and her team have got their work cut out for them," he said as he eyed the mountain of paperwork.

"Bones? Oh, you mean Dr. Brennan?" The young man's eyes glazed over for a moment. "If anyone can match markings and striations to the data we collected, it's her. She's great….have you read her book?"

Booth gritted his teeth at the enthusiasm and adoration the young man was displaying for his partner. "Of course I've read her book….she based Agent Andy Lister on me."

The young man looked at Booth and studied him for a minute. "Really? I don't see it."

Standing behind his desk, Booth pointed to his door indicating his desire for the young man to leave. "Yeah, well, it's me. Trust me, okay? She doesn't know any other agents…it's me."

"Yeah, I'm still not seeing it," the young Ballistics expert stated as he exited the office.

"I don't see it," Booth muttered in a mocking tone as he stared at numerous files. "How could you not see it? It's so obvious," he mumbled.

"Booth? Talking to yourself again?" Cullen inquired from the doorway.

"Huh? Oh sir, I didn't see you standing there. I was just contemplating how to transport all of these files to Dr. Brennan's lab." Booth walked around the desk and grabbed an empty box that was sitting on the floor beneath the table in his office. Cullen stepped into the office and shut the door behind him, watching as Booth placed the files in the box.

"Booth, you didn't have another visit with McVicar this morning did you?" He placed his hands in pockets and watched the agent.

Glancing up at his boss, Booth placed the last file in the box and smoothed down his tie. "No sir, why do you ask?"

"I just received a call from the warden again. It seems that McVicar had another clumsy moment and fell on a knife…about ten or twelve times…while in solitary confinement." He watched as the color drained from Booth's face.

"Is he dead?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not yet. He's in surgery at the moment. I just thought you might want to know…."

"Temperance," he whispered as he grabbed the box and raced toward the door, flinging it open. His only concern at the moment was how quickly he could get to the Jeffersonian.

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Racing through the wet streets of DC, Booth pounded his right fist against the steering wheel. He couldn't believe that McVicar had been telling the truth—telling him about Patrick Kava had indeed put McVicar in danger and now Brennan could be next. Booth's nightmare of Brennan's lifeless body, covered in blood, on one of the lab's examination tables came rushing back to him. Pressing his foot a little further down on the accelerator, Booth weaved the SUV in and out of the left and right lanes in order to get around the slow moving vehicles.

He pulled into the parking garage of the Jeffersonian and left his SUV parked behind Brennan's car. Screw parking spaces, he thought as he yanked his keys from the ignition and climbed out of the SUV, leaving the box of files in the passenger's seat.

Running at full speed, he entered the building and was met with curious stares by security. "Where's Dr. Brennan?" he demanded.

One young guard simply shrugged and pointed to the lab area. Booth ran into the lab and skidded to a halt. Angela's office, he thought as he turned and ran down the corridor.

"Bones!" he yelled as he rushed into the office, startling Angela.

"God, Booth. You scared the hell out of me," she said as she placed her left hand over her heart.

"Where's Bones?" His eyes darted around the room unable to locate his partner.

Angela was frightened by the panic in the agent's eyes and his movements. "Booth, what's wrong?"

"Is she in her office Angela?" He turned and ran out the door with an anxious Angela following closely behind.

"Temperance!" He entered her office and found it empty.

"Booth, calm down! She's around the lab somewhere." Angela placed her hand on his arm in an attempt to soothe the agent. "Now what's wrong?"

Ignoring the artist, Booth exited his partner's office to continue his search. Brennan, reading over a file, rounded the corner and came face to face with her panicked partner.

"Booth, are you okay?"

He stepped toward her and gathered her into his arms into a crushing embrace. "I couldn't find you," he whispered as though that explained everything.

Brennan looked at Angela over Booth's shoulder. The artist shrugged and managed to smirk at the sight in front of her.

"Booth, you can let go now. I'm having trouble breathing."

Relaxing his grip slightly but not releasing her, Booth pulled back and looked down into her eyes. "Sorry Bones."

"What's wrong?"

"I've been asking him that since he ran at top speed into my office demanding to know where you were," Angela said as she crossed her arms.

"I was in Hodgins' office reviewing more of the fibers we located on the Thompsons' remains," she explained. "Booth, seriously you can let go now."

He reluctantly released his hold on her and took a step back. "We need to talk Bones."

Brennan narrowed her eyes at his tone. "What's happened Booth?"

Shifting his stance under her intense scrutiny, Booth placed his hands on hips. "McVicar…he's been stabbed. He's in surgery right now…."

Brennan stared at him and Booth could see her mind working in overdrive.

"That still doesn't explain why you acted like a madman running around here Booth," Angela said in an exasperated tone. "I hate to say this Bren, but if that psychopath dies, it's not exactly a big deal in my book."

"Normally I would agree with you Angela," Booth said as he continued to watch Brennan silently digest the news and how it correlated to her safety. "But if they've gone after McVicar, Temperance might be next…."

**Author's notes: Sorry for the short chapter but work has been hectic. I'll try to post another chapter soon.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 20**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with the series BONES.**

**Author's notes: Thanks once again for reading and special thanks as always for reviewing.**

**To jaed621—Thank you for not throwing things at me. That small gesture is always appreciated. (wink) The fact that you cannot resist Booth is not a flaw or a weakness in my book….hell, apparently the majority of us have a hard time with that! I know in your fics (which I always enjoy reading by the way) you have Booth and Brennan together and you manage to write their love scenes very well. I guess I'm hesitant to bring them to that point yet because I'm afraid of ruining the story. I had them kissing in "I Missed You" and I personally felt that I forced the ending of that story. I just don't want to make the same mistake twice. But thanks for the encouragement….we'll see what happens.**

**To BonesDBchippie—I've thrown the chalkboard away! No more stick figures…as you can imagine I did not do well in my art classes. (LOL) Hope your ankle is better and glad to know you're off the pain meds!**

**And finally to elliot02uk (my dearest Jean B.)—Now who's my favorite proofreader? Come on, raise your hand….smile for me. I apologize if my notes in the last chapter lead you to believe that I was in some way offended by your comments…I wasn't…not by your review or anyone else's. I racked my brain and I remember losing my temper at work this week and telling off a few people and then being told by my coworkers that I have an icy demeanor and a hostile attitude so perhaps my sarcastic caustic nature made its way into my writing. (sheepish grin) Sorry about that. (hands magnifying glass back) I hope you don't need this but you never know. By the way, the mistakes in the last chapter were due to two factors: I wrote the chapter in 30 minutes and then I posted it without proofreading the chapter. (slaps own hand) Bad writer!**

**Okay, I decided for this chapter to include some of your observations about Brennan and Booth being in bed together and not doing more than sleeping. Hope you enjoy this chapter….remember to press the little button and tell me what you think. It might help to melt my icy demeanor. (LOL)**

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Booth paced around Brennan's office while she sat at her desk on the phone with Russ. Angela's dark eyes followed the agent's furious pacing for a few seconds before settling her gaze on her best friend. She did not like the idea of Brennan being in danger. In fact, Brennan being in danger was becoming more and more of a theme since the inception of her partnership with Booth.

"Yes, Russ, I assure you that I'm fine. I just wanted to call and check on you that's all." Brennan's hand gripped the phone tightly as she listened to her brother.

From her position on the couch, Angela sighed. Yeah, Brennan just wanted to check on her brother….after she practically mowed down her and Booth in a state of panic to get to her office.

"No Russ, nothing's wrong….yes, I'm sure….I've just been busy this week….I know we promised to talk once a week Russ…" Brennan sighed as she listened to her big brother berate her. "I know….I will definitely try to make plans to come down there….yes, a big case but I can't discuss the details….I will…next week….okay, love you too. Bye."

Placing the phone back in the cradle, Brennan turned her attention to the pacing agent in front of her. She was fairly certain that Booth had worn a groove in the floor in front of her desk.

"Why didn't you tell him about McVicar? The possibility that you….and perhaps him as well...could be in danger?" Booth stopped pacing and stood in front of her, his hands firmly positioned on his hips.

"Russ is fine. Besides you know how he felt about us continuing to investigate my parents," Brennan said as she shrugged. "Informing him of what's occurred with McVicar will only reinforce his resolve that I should drop the matter."

Removing the poker chip from his right pocket, Booth resumed his pacing and began tossing the chip in the air. "Maybe he's right," he conceded.

Brennan's eyes narrowed as she studied her partner. "No."

Angela rolled her eyes at the impending argument that was sure to follow that simple word.

"Bones, be reasonable for a minute," Booth said as he ceased his pacing, opting to take a seat across from his partner. "McVicar is in a maximum security prison. He was in solitary confinement when he was stabbed…multiple times I might add. Getting to you….hurting you…is not going to be nearly as difficult. And I'll be damned if I'm letting anything happen to you."

She knew that if anything did happen, the guilt would devour Booth. He had berated and tortured himself for months after the incident with Kenton, constantly saying how he had failed her. As far as Brennan was concerned, Booth had never and would never fail her.

"Booth, I know you will do everything in your power to ensure that I'm safe," she said in an attempt to soothe him. "But we're not stopping this investigation."

"Fine," he said before letting out a long exasperated breath. "And you're damn right I'm gonna make sure you're safe…so your place or mine?"

Brennan stared at him with her brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's about time! It only took a year and a half." Angela smiled at the couple.

Booth turned in his seat and glared at her slightly for the inappropriate timing of the innuendo. "Seriously Bones, I'm giving you the option. Either I move in with you until this is resolved or you move into my place."

"No." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"I don't believe 'no' was one of the options I gave you." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, mirroring her steely gaze with one of his own. Temperance Brennan may be stubborn, he thought, but I will get my way on this.

Angela watched the standoff, intrigued to see who would come out on top. The silent tension in the room continued to mushroom causing the artist to squirm in her seat. "Oh for god's sake, just pack a bag Booth and move in with her! There, decision made!" Angela jumped up from her seat and stalked out of the room. Those two with their sexual tension will be the death of me, she thought as she exited the office.

Booth grinned at the outraged expression on Brennan's face. "She was not the person making the decision!"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter…the decision has been made. I'll pack a few items and…."

"No."

"Yes. No arguments Bones…you're not going to win this one." Booth stood as a triumphant smile played on his lips.

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Fine."

"I knew you would see it my way…you're a smart woman. Now, I'm going to move my SUV and retrieve the data that Ballistics gave me before I came over. Should I take it to Angela's office or….?"

"Yes, Angela's office. Just meet me in there…unless of course I'm not allowed to walk around the lab by myself," she replied sarcastically.

Booth stopped at her door, pretending to ponder the thought. "If you make it to Angela's office without injury then I'll consider the lab a safe area," he joked. The glare he received from Brennan told him that his comment was neither humorous nor appreciated.

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After pulling the SUV into a nearby space, Booth climbed out of the vehicle and removed his cell phone from his jacket as he walked to the passenger's side to retrieve the files. Maybe he wouldn't have to talk to Goodman about an assigned space after all, he thought happily.

"Hey, that's my parking space!" a short rotund balding man yelled as he waddled toward Booth.

The agent glanced around the parking garage and then allowed his gaze to settle on the man. "Where's your car?"

"I don't have a car. I just have a space….in case I ever decide to buy a car," the height challenged man huffed.

"What? That's the most….ugh, you know what, never mind." Booth swept his jacket to the side exposing his badge and his firearm. "I'm commandeering your spot buddy….official FBI business."

"But you can't…."

"Just did. Thank you for your cooperation." Booth opened the passenger's side door and removed the box from the seat. As he walked to the back of the SUV, he placed the box on the ground. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an important, private phone call to make."

The man's face turned red as he waddled toward the entrance to the lab. "I'm telling Dr. Goodman."

Booth rolled his eyes at the juvenile response as he dialed Russ' number.

"Hello," Russ answered after the third ring. Booth could hear the sound of children laughing and squealing in the background.

"Russ this is Booth."

"Oh hey Booth, what's going…is Tempe okay!" Booth heard the panic in Russ' voice.

"She's fine. I know she called you a few minutes ago."

"Yeah and she sounded a little stressed….are you sure that everything is okay?"

Booth sighed as he glanced around the parking deck. How much should he tell Brennan's brother? The man had a right to know if he was in danger…just as he had a right to know that his sister was in danger.

"Russ, Vince McVicar was stabbed this morning. The last I heard he was in surgery and it wasn't looking good."

Russ snorted his contempt for the hit man. "So? At least it will save the taxpayers some money, right?"

He decided to gather more information before telling Russ of the possible danger that could befall him and his sister. "I spoke with McVicar the other day to get information on the man who took Bones out of foster care. He gave me the name Patrick Kava and told me that everyone called the guy 'Gramps'. Does that name or the nickname sound familiar to you? It didn't to your sister."

After a brief pause, Russ finally answered. "Pat. Our dad would always go on fishing trips one weekend a month with an old friend he and Mom referred to as 'Pat'. I'm surprised that Tempe doesn't remember that. When she was ten, she got really upset when Dad told her that she couldn't go with him. She wanted to learn to how to fish." Russ sighed. "I ended taking her with me that weekend and I taught her."

Booth smiled at the thought of a young Temperance wanting to spend time with her father and learn how to catch fish. Her life had become so much more complicated since that innocent time. "Your father went on year round fishing trips? Even in the winter?"

Brennan's brother chuckled. "Tempe asked him that same question once. He told us that ice fishing was even better than fishing during the summer." Russ became very quiet for a moment. "He hadn't given up the life, had he Booth? This Patrick guy….he was part of the past we had to run from, wasn't he?"

The sadness in Russ' voice overwhelmed Booth. Brennan and her brother had been through so much and it seemed that every new piece of information he uncovered only succeeded in wounding them both further.

"I haven't had a chance to discuss everything I've found out so far with your sister…"

"And you want to tell her before you tell me," Russ sighed. "Fine, I get it. But you better convince her that she needs to tell me everything Booth."

"I will Russ. One other thing…keep your eyes open for anyone suspicious hanging around your neighborhood, your work, you know that kind of thing."

"Tempe and I are in danger aren't we? McVicar's stabbing…."

"Yes, Russ," Booth cut him off. "Just be careful."

"You better keep my sister safe," he warned the special agent.

"That's the plan."

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Brennan found her team sitting in Angela's office awaiting the arrival of the ballistics results. Hodgins had made himself comfortable on Angela's couch, perusing an art magazine while Zach sat at the Angelator once again reviewing his findings on Sheriff Fife's firearms.

Angela sat behind her desk watching her best friend as she took a seat across from her.

"Booth's not in here?" she inquired as she looked over at Angela.

"No he's not and don't you dare take off running around the lab like a chicken with your head cut off looking for him. I've had enough exercise today chasing your man around."

"He's not my man."

"He's moving in with you," Angela proudly pointed out.

"No, he's invading my personal living area with items from his home on a temporary basis out of a misguided alpha male need to protect me." Brennan sat back in the chair and crossed her arms, glaring at her best friend.

"Uh-huh," she smirked at the glare Brennan directed at her. "I bet he sleeps in the nude…"

"No he doesn't," Brennan said. As she watched Angela's dark eyes grow wide with excitement, she realized those three words had given her best friend a porthole into a discussion on her relationship with Booth.

"And just how do you know that Bren?" She leaned forward as she watched Brennan's face grow flush.

"I sleep in the nude," Hodgins chimed in as he turned another page in the magazine.

"I'm not talking to you," Angela replied, her eyes never leaving Brennan's face.

"It's a very freeing feeling," he continued ignoring the artist.

Zach swiveled his chair toward Hodgins' position on the couch. "I'm so glad there's a garage and a tennis court separating my place from the main house."

"Sweetie, you have first hand knowledge don't you!" She jumped out of her seat and ran around her desk flinging herself into the chair next to an embarrassed Brennan. "When did it happen? Was he good…I bet he was intense wasn't he? Details please."

"Angela I did not have sex with Booth. Yes, he stayed at my place…"

"In your bed?"

"Um, yes," Brennan said with trepidation.

"And nothing happened?"

She nodded her affirmation causing Angela to throw her hands up in the air. "Were you touching in any way whatsoever?"

Again Brennan nodded. Angela buried her face in her hands. "What the hell is wrong with you two! Brennan there is no way in hell that a woman lets a man that looks like Seeley Booth lay in her bed with his arms around her and doesn't make wild passionate love to him."

"Wild passionate love is the best, man," Hodgins agreed as his blue eyes skimmed an article on the Louvre.

"Who's making wild passionate love?" Booth questioned as he entered the office with the box. He noticed Brennan's face was flushed and he briefly wondered if the conversation had been about him.

Angela stood, walked over to the agent and grabbed the box from his hands. "Apparently no one," she huffed. "You two are freakin' unbelievable," she muttered as she took a seat next to Zach.

Taking a seat beside his partner, Booth leaned over to Brennan. "Do I even want to know what's wrong with her?" he whispered.

Brennan shook her head vigorously before she stood and walked over to watch Angela and Zach compare the ballistics data to the markings on the bone. She found it difficult to concentrate on the task as images of Booth's naked torso flashed through her mind. It wasn't as if the idea of sleeping with Booth had never crossed her mind…in fact the thought had become quite frequent as of late. Her concern was what would happen to their friendship and partnership if that line was crossed.

She glanced at Booth out of the corner of her eye and smiled as she realized that he had been watching her. Turning her attention back to the Angelator, Brennan chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Maybe having him in her apartment would aid in deciding if crossing that line was a good idea, she thought.

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Five hours later, Hodgins was sprawled out on the couch fast asleep and Booth had decided to make a run to Wong Foos for takeout.

Glancing over at Hodgins, Zach shuddered. "At least he's still clothed."

Angela laughed as she placed the last image into her computer and watched as it appeared in a holographic form next to the image of the markings on the bone. "This is the last one sweetie," she said as Brennan studied the image.

"It's not a match," Brennan stated with authority. "It's not even similar to the striations in the bone." She sighed and rubbed her temples to stave off the impending headache she felt. "Maybe my calculations on the reverse engineering imaging were off."

"No they weren't Dr. Brennan. We checked and double-checked the data. The imaging we created from the bone is accurate." Zach beamed proudly at his mentor. "None of these weapons were used to kill Ronald and Katherine Thompson."

Booth entered the office with a box of Chinese takeout. "All of those guns in that house and not one of them was used in the murders?" He stared at Brennan hoping that she would alter the kid's findings.

"No, Agent Booth, the gun that was used did not come from Ronald Thompson's arsenal," Zach said.

"It was a collection kid," he said as he placed the box of food on Angela's desk.

Zach swiveled his chair and pointed to the stack of files strewn about the office. "I respectfully disagree Agent Booth."

Sensing Booth's irritation, Brennan strode toward him and placed her hand on his arm. "He's right Booth. None of these were the murder weapon."

"Damn it," he whispered.

"Look it's been a long day," Angela said as she stood and stretched her tired muscles. "Let's just sit in here, enjoy some great takeout food and be thankful that Hodgins does indeed still have his clothes on."

Booth placed his container back in the box. "I think I just lost my appetite."

"Angela's right. Sometimes in order to regain your focus on a subject, you have to take a step back…." Brennan placed the container back in Booth's hand. "And in order to do that I'm pretty sure you're going to need sustenance."

Booth grinned at her as her fingers touched his and he chuckled when her smile grew wider.

Angela rolled her eyes as she walked over to the couch and knocked Hodgins' feet out of her way. "Unfreakinbelievable," she muttered.


	21. Chapter 21

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 21**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of the story and the shifty characters of Willow Lake…and the weird short balding waddling man from the parking garage…he just came out of nowhere and appeared on my computer screen.**

**Author's notes: Special thanks as always for reading and extra special thanks to those who continue to review. You are all great! **

**To immalee—When you go to iTunes, you will need to do a power search of Television shows. Just type in BONES and it will tell you the price for buying the whole first season or individual episodes. You'll have to open an account and give them a credit card number before you can download anything.**

**To jaed621—I only spoke the truth when complimenting your writing. There's no need to thank me. (wink)**

**To BonesDBchippie—Anytime you tell me that your daughter ran into the room to find out what you were laughing at, well I feel I've done my job. And thanks for the champagne! Now everyday will be "Champagne Thursday" (that's from _Failure to Launch_ for those of you who don't understand the reference) Cheers!**

**To Howdylynn—Put the mouse down. (looks through the phone book for a rehab center) Just kidding. I'm glad you're still enjoying this story. And hey, the new season of Bones is just days away!**

**To the-tangoing-mango-addict—Your cookies are ruining my diet! (LOL) But they are still appreciated.**

**And to elliot02uk (dear, dear Jean B.)—I don't know if I have the same "heart of gold" that I'm certain you do. Yeah, the hostile comment was the result of my saying "What the hell are you smiling at?" instead of "Good morning" to one of my co-workers (whom I really like). In my defense, when this guy smiles at people it's because he's done something to them, plans to do something to do them or plans to say something to embarrass them in front of everyone. I just beat him to the punch that day…and no, I didn't literally hit him. (big grin) Glad you liked the last chapter. I know the images of a naked Booth may have sent you reeling but hey, wasn't it worth it?**

**Everyone, just remember to push the button and let me know what you think after you read this chapter. Enjoy!**

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Angela and a now fully awake, and still clothed, Hodgins sat on the couch side by side while Booth and Brennan had moved two chairs over to sit across from them. Zach picked a spot on the floor at the end of the coffee table in front of the couch.

Leaning back in his chair, Booth took a bite of kung pao chicken from one of the containers that he and Brennan were sharing. After swallowing the bite of food, he waved his fork in the air. "Okay, we've stepped back from the subject of the Thompsons' murder for the past forty minutes. Whaddya say we play a game of conjecture?"

"You know how I feel about conjecture when discussing a case Booth," Brennan said as she skillfully maneuvered her chopsticks, loaded with stir fry vegetables, to her mouth.

"Bones, we don't have anything else to go on here. The kid determined that none of the weapons in the house were used and the ones we seized from the sheriff didn't provide any help either."

"I say the sheriff did it," Hodgins stated as he leaned forward to pick up the container of sweet and sour shrimp.

Angela placed her chopsticks in the container and retrieved one of the shrimp as Hodgins leaned back. "Because he was sleeping with Katherine?"

"Supposedly," Brennan corrected. Booth shot her a questioning glance. "He denied the affair. Everyone else—Natalie, Elaine, everyone in town—they only surmised that there was an affair due to their past."

"But Fife admitted that he tried to kiss Katherine and Elaine walked in," Booth countered.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that he killed Katherine or her husband."

"What about Elaine?" Angela questioned.

Booth shook his head. "No, as I said before if Katherine had been the only one killed, then I would definitely put Elaine at the top of the list. She was obsessed with Ronald's happiness. She wouldn't have hurt her own son."

The artist leaned toward Hodgins and took another piece of shrimp from the container. "Okay, let's say that she did hire someone to take out Katherine but Ronald somehow ended up in the crossfire by accident. Would that track?"

Booth chewed thoughtfully on his food for a moment. "I'm going to need to pull Elaine's bank records…"

"Oh, oh, what about the daughter?" Zach asked as he raised his hand. "I still say that Agent Booth's hypothesis concerning the daughter is feasible."

"Put your hand down Horseshack," Booth mumbled as he took another bite of food.

Brennan shook her head as she looked through the containers sitting on the coffee table. "When we spoke to her she had an iPod which she was playing extremely loud. She said she was listening to it the night her parents disappeared."

"She may be lying Dr. Brennan," Zach said as he engaged in a battle of chopsticks versus moo goo gai pan.

"The kid's got a point. But our killer could also know that Natalie used her music to block out her parents' arguing….and that would track with Elaine." Booth picked up his bottle of water and took a sip.

"I'm still not buying it." Brennan leaned forward and placed an empty container on the table.

"Why not? It's a perfectly plausible theory Bones."

"It's pure conjecture Booth. There is no hard core evidence to support any of it. We need to sit down with all of the files and start from the beginning." She eyed the container in his hand. "Are you going to eat all of that?"

Smiling, he handed the food to her and watched as she ate the last few bites.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder where you were," Dr. Goodman said as he entered the office.

"Ha, see Bones. I'm not the only person who thinks it's odd that Angela's office is the new hangout." Booth pointed his fork at her as he grinned.

"Yes especially when I'm so used to seeing you in Dr. Brennan's office annoying only her Agent Booth." Goodman stood in a rigid position with his hands behind his back.

The grin slowly faded from Booth's lips. "Oh…"

"Do you wish to enlighten me as to why you commandeered Howard Nouvelle's parking space earlier?" Goodman watched as the agent lifted himself out of his chair and turned to face him.

"The guy doesn't even have a car…" Booth began.

"No but he has a parking space," the administrator countered.

Booth glanced around the room. "No one else here finds that odd?"

"Howard Nouvelle is a valued employee of the Jeffersonian Agent Booth. He requested that parking space and it was issued to him. Now I have an extremely agitated archeologist cursing your name in my office."

"Well _I _need an assigned parking space that is not in the parking structure that time forgot and _I _do have a vehicle." Booth placed his hands on his hips as he stared at the other man. "So how about I make a request for that space now and you say okay?"

"If you desire a parking space closer to the lab, you will need to fill out the proper paper work Agent Booth."

"Or you could just issue that space to him temporarily," Brennan offered.

"That is not going to happen Dr. Brennan," Goodman said as he turned his gaze toward her.

"Or Booth could just use Bren's parking space while they're living together," Angela said with a devilish gleam in her eyes.

"Oh dear lord, when did this occur?" Goodman looked from Booth to Brennan for an answer.

"It's only until Booth is certain that my life is no longer in danger," Brennan explained in a casual tone. "You know with the whole McVicar situation..."

"Well that certainly makes me feel so much better Dr. Brennan," Goodman replied sarcastically.

"It should. Booth is an excellent FBI agent," she said ignoring Goodman's tone.

"I'm sure he's excellent at other things too," Angela muttered causing Hodgins to laugh.

Goodman took the opportunity to glare at the artist and entomologist seated very close together on the couch. "Fine, Agent Booth. For the time being you may utilize Dr. Nouvelle's parking space until the matter of Dr. Brennan's safety is resolved. I now have the unpleasant task of informing him of my decision."

The group watched as Goodman left the office. "After meeting that weird little guy today, I do not envy Goodman right now," Booth said.

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"Just let me grab a few things Bones and I need to make sure that all of my phone calls are forwarded to my cell phone." Booth guided Brennan through the front door of his apartment. As he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, Brennan ambled into the living room.

The numerous picture frames around the room intrigued her. She walked over to the large bookcase and picked up a large frame that held a picture of a slightly younger Booth, another young man who had similar bone structure to Booth and an older man and woman. Brennan surmised that it was a photo of Booth's family and she smiled at the obvious happiness shared amongst the family members.

As she placed the frame back on the shelf, Brennan was reminded of the lack of photographs around her home. She displayed the one of herself and Angela because Angela really was like a sister to her. She had a shoebox full of pictures from her childhood of her parents and Russ. After reconnecting with her brother, Brennan had purchased a small frame which now held a photograph of Russ and her together in happier times. She found it difficult to even look at the photographs of her parents anymore—they were complete strangers to her at this point.

Booth emerged from the hallway with a large duffel bag and a bag containing several of his suits and dress shirts. He found Brennan studying a picture of him and Parker and he noticed the sad expression on her face. He quietly placed the items in his hand on the floor behind the couch and approached her.

"That's my favorite picture of Parker," he said quietly as he came to stand behind her.

"It's not a bad one of you either," she said as she placed it back on the mantle. As she turned to face him, Booth saw the tears shimmering in Brennan's bright blue eyes.

"Temperance, are you okay?" He moved a lock of her hair that threatened to fall out of place.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…I'm fine." She smiled at him, touched by his concern. "We should probably go."

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"Exactly how many suits do you own Booth?" Brennan grunted as she opened the door to her apartment carrying the large heavy bag. She draped the bag over the back of her couch and heard Booth chuckling behind her.

"I told you that I could manage both bags Bones," he said as he dropped the duffel bag on the living room floor.

"Well you're always insisting on carrying a piece of equipment or a bag when we're out in the field together…the least I can do is carry a hundred pounds of specially tailored brand name suits up two flights of stairs." She sauntered into the kitchen and took two bottles of water out of the fridge.

"It's not my fault the elevator in this building is broken," he teased as she tossed him one of the bottles. "Still no beer?"

"I'm not rewarding your alpha male behavior with a beer," she replied cheekily.

"So where should I put my stuff Bones?" He picked up the suit bag carefully and looked over at Brennan. "I really don't want these to get wrinkled…it's bad enough they've been handled by you like they were a bag of potatoes."

Rolling her eyes, she turned to walk down the hallway to her bedroom. "Follow me," she ordered.

Wagging his eyebrows playfully, Booth did as he was told. "Yes ma'am," he whispered.

As he entered the bedroom, he found Brennan in her closet shoving part of her wardrobe to the side. "Do you think that will be enough room?" she asked as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"That should work." He began removing the clothing from the bag and carefully smoothing down each item before hanging them in the closet.

Brennan took a seat on her bed and watched his meticulous attention to his wardrobe with amusement. She picked up one of her pillows and hugged it to her chest. "Booth, did you find anything else on Patrick Kava?"

She saw his back tense at the mention of the man's name and she immediately knew that he had new information that he hadn't shared with her. Booth slowly turned toward her and stared at her for a moment.

"Yeah, Bones I did." He made his way over to the bed and sat down facing her. "I spoke with one of the original agents on the case. Patrick Kava was apparently a pretty big player in the syndicate. He's the person who brought your parents into the mix."

Brennan chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. "So he knew my parents before?"

"It appears that way. When your parents took you and Russ to Chicago and changed their identities…Patrick Kava supposedly died in a car accident."

"But no body was found…"

Booth nodded his head. "Agent Andrews said the rumor at the time was that Kava…with assistance from your father…had stolen five million dollars of the syndicate's money."

"This just keeps getting better and better," she mumbled. Booth placed his left hand on her thigh as he watched her digest the news. "Five million dollars? What did they do with the money? When he took me out of foster care, we lived in a small modest house on a fixed income Booth. He didn't splurge on anything."

"I don't know where the money is Bones. But Kava was smart….he knew that if he lived the high life, someone would get suspicious." Booth sighed as he scooted his body closer to her. "Bones, don't get mad but I spoke with Russ today…."

She glared at him. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him about McVicar and I told him to be careful. Other than that I told him I couldn't share anything with him until I spoke to you first." He saw the anger in her eyes diminish slightly. "He said he remembered your father going on fishing trips once a month with someone named 'Pat'."

"Pat…I completely forgot about that. Do you think…?"

He nodded again. "I think it was Patrick Kava. I think your father and Kava continued to associate with each other but always away from your family so that nothing would happen to you and Russ."

"Fishing trips," she whispered. "It's amazing the lies that children will believe. I remember now…he never came home with any fish. Russ would give him grief over that."

After watching her for a few moments, Booth squeezed her thigh gently. "I think it's been a long day and we could both use some rest. Let me finish putting my things away, we'll watch some television, veg out for awhile and then grab some shut eye."

"Veg out?" she asked as he stood and continued putting his suits away.

"Oh it's an art form that takes years to perfect." He turned and winked at her. "Lucky for you I'm a master of the whole vegging out phenomena."

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"I still don't understand why we can't watch the Discovery Channel. There's supposed to be an intriguing new documentary on the Aztecs and how they captured, ritually sacrificed and ate people who were part of the invading Spanish forces in 1520." Brennan tried to grab the remote control from Booth's grasp.

"Okay, first, eeewwww. Why would want to watch that?" he said as he slapped her hand away. "And second, you cannot veg out watching the Discovery Channel. That channel has programming that is meant to stimulate and make you think….the exact opposite of vegging out."

He grinned as he watched her lean back and cross her arms with a small frown on her face. Booth decided that she looked cute in her blue silk pajamas, pouting over his choice of shows.

"Come on Bones, _The Andy Griffith Show_ is a staple of Americana. It's like apple pie, baseball…"

"It's completely unrealistic Booth."

"It's a television show Bones. It's just like those John Wayne movies you love so much…you have to suspend your belief of reality for a little while to enjoy it."

"Fine."

Booth laughed at her. "Don't show so much enthusiasm there Bones, you might hurt yourself."

After two hours of watching Barney Fife bumble around the town of Mayberry, Brennan yawned.

"Ready for bed?"

"Yes," she said as she stood and stretched. Booth did the same as he placed the remote control on the coffee table.

"Where do you think you're going?" she questioned as Booth moved around the couch toward the hallway.

"Bed," he replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Nope, couch." She pointed to the plush area they had occupied moments before. "I'm not rewarding you for forcing me to watch that piece of Americana," she said with a smile as she moved past him down the hallway.

Hearing him grumble about her decision made her smile even more. As she reached her bedroom door, Brennan turned to look down the hallway. She caught a glimpse of Booth removing his shirt, his pajama pants hanging precariously on his slender hips. She quickly entered her bedroom before she changed her mind about rewarding the special agent.

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After two hours of staring at her ceiling and thinking about Booth's physique, Brennan decided to get up and find something to read. The only problem was the book she was currently reading during her downtime was lying on her desk ten feet away from the half naked special agent.

She quietly entered the hallway and crept along until she reached the living room. Glancing over at the couch, Brennan saw that Booth was fast asleep, his bare chest rising and falling with each soft breath. She noticed that his right arm was lying above his head while his left arm was draped across his waist. Nice muscle tone, good definition….no doubt that he was strong, she thought as she stared at him. Stop that, she scolded herself, that is not helping at all!

Quickly moving toward her desk, Brennan stubbed her toe on one of the bar stools. "Ouch, son of…."

Booth sat up, his eyes darting around the dark room until his gaze landed on Brennan who was hunched over, clutching her left foot, cursing.

"Bones? You okay?" He quickly lifted his body off the couch and rushed to her.

"I'm fine….just stubbed my toe."

He grinned at her. "Couldn't sleep huh?"

She looked up at him, her gaze falling on his chest. "Uh…no…"

"Come on, let me take a look at your toe," he said as he took her arm and guided her to the couch.

"I stubbed my toe Booth…I didn't amputate it. There's nothing you can do."

He sighed as he pushed her to sit down. "Just have a seat Bones." He took a seat close beside her and lifted her left leg, placing it across his lap. He examined her toe and then turned to her with a grin on his face. "You're right there's nothing I can."

She swatted his shoulder playfully, enjoying his close proximity. "Sorry I woke you up."

"Not a problem….you wanna tell me why couldn't sleep?"

She shrugged, hoping that he would drop this particular line of questioning.

He leaned in close, bringing his face within inches of hers. "You know you can tell me," he whispered.

Staring into his dark brown eyes, Brennan didn't respond verbally. Without thinking or overanalyzing the situation, she let her heart take precedence over her mind as she leaned in and softly placed her lips on his.

Her action caught him by surprise but Booth quickly recovered and gently reciprocated the kiss. He didn't want to do anything to scare her off.

Brennan didn't move away from him. Instead she laid her hands on his chest as she brushed her lips against his again.

The thrill of her hands on him was cut short by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. Brennan leaned away from him slightly and looked at the phone.

"Guess you need to get that…" she said softly.

"Ah…yeah, I guess," he whispered. He leaned over and grabbed the phone, silently promising to kill whoever had interrupted them.

"Booth," he answered gruffly.

"Agent Booth I'm sorry to disturb this early in the morning," Cullen's voice boomed in his ear. "I just received a phone call….McVicar is dead. Thought you would want to know."

**Author's notes: It only took 21 chapters….was it worth it? Let me know! Press the little button now!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 22**

**Disclaimer: (sigh) Still not mine…not even after that long awaited kiss.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and special thanks as always to those of you who are reviewing. Everyone, with the exception of Howdylynn, seemed happy that I _finally_ had them kissing—sorry I had to burst your balloon there Howdylynn, but the real deal is only a few days away! And I agree that the tension on the show is a big part of what keeps us coming back for more. (wink)**

**(Watches as jaed621 does a happy dance)—You're welcome. (grin)**

**To siapom—You knew that something or someone had to interrupt Booth and Brennan…it always does! And yeah, the Horseshack line…I just imagined cute little Zach sitting on the floor with his hand up in the air trying to get everyone's attention.**

**And to elliot02uk (my buddy Jean)—Sorry you had to wade through dialogue and plot to get to a half naked Booth and a kiss. (big grin) I am glad to know that you had your blood pressure thingy nearby! I would hate to be the reason you were sent to the hospital. Oh and the "revered author" comment…(blushes)….you keep saying things like that and my ego may become larger than Booth's! (LOL)**

**Okay everyone, enjoy this chapter and remember to review! If I don't update before Wednesday…remember to watch the new episode of BONES!**

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McVicar was dead. Booth wasn't sad that that particular human being was no longer taking up space on the planet. His concern laid fully with the woman in the passenger's seat of his SUV—the woman with whom he had fallen head over heels in love.

He smiled slightly as he glanced over at her. Booth had admitted his feelings for Brennan to himself some time ago but he realized, at the time, that she had not been ready. She had lost her parents; her brother had deserted her; and she had closed herself off emotionally to just about everyone with the exception of Angela. Then Brennan's world was once again turned upside down with the discovery of her mother's remains and the truth of what her parents were. This time though, she had allowed him in…allowed him to witness her vulnerable side.

As he watched her read over one of the files on the Thompsons' murder case, Booth knew the step Brennan had taken last night had been an enormous one for her. Turning his attention back to the road, his mind drifted back to the moment Brennan had placed her lips on his. Booth decided that he would let her set the pace for the new part of their relationship. The last thing he needed was her running away from him or shutting him out of her life.

"Booth….Booth!" Brennan yelled.

"Huh? What?"

"You just ran through a red light!" She turned in her seat to look out the back windshield. When she didn't spy a DC patrol car with blue lights blazing behind them, Brennan positioned herself in her seat to face him. "Do I need to drive?"

"No, you don't need to drive. It was yellow when I went through it….you know, yellow as in 'go faster'."

"It was red and I don't what driver's training you received but yellow means 'yield'." She turned back in her seat and flipped open the file again. "There's got to be something we're overlooking," she mumbled to herself.

Booth pulled the SUV into the parking garage and into his newly acquired space as Brennan tucked the folders into her bag.

"You don't have to walk me to my office you know," she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

He reached over and took her hand allowing his fingers to slide softly down her wrist. "I know I don't have to Bones, but I _want_ to. Okay?"

She smiled at him, recalling their moment on her couch before Cullen had interrupted. "Okay," she replied softly.

While Brennan felt apprehensive about this new part of their relationship, there was a certain amount of excitement and even…relief. She had felt something for Booth for a while but she had never been able to pinpoint exactly what the feeling was—lust was one of the obvious feelings but there had been something deeper. When she initiated their kiss last night, Brennan realized that she had not been able to decipher the feeling because she'd never felt the same way about Pete or Michael or any other man she had been with. Booth was different…in every way, in all the good ways.

As they exited the vehicle, both with wistful smiles playing on their lips, the couple was startled by the sudden appearance of Dr. Howard Nouvelle.

"So the big FBI guy and his little anthropologist girlfriend got their way," he snarled at both of them as he placed his chubby hands on his hips. "Because Dr. Brennan's precious little life is in danger…again!...you get my parking space."

"You don't even have a car!" Booth threw his hands in the air, exasperated with the weird little man.

"That's not the point! I applied for that space by properly following Jeffersonian protocol and filling out a mountain of paperwork that even the Egyptians would have had a difficult time moving." Howard's face was bright red and Booth was fairly certain the doctor was going to have a heart attack. "But you come in here with your….your height…and your good looks….and your full head of hair and voila, you take my parking space."

"Okay, look let's just calm down." Booth looked over at Brennan for support. She simply shrugged and watched as the rotund little archeologist turned on his heel and began to waddle away.

"Ah jeez….hey, what if _you_ park a car in _your_ space?" he yelled at the retreating doctor.

Howard stopped and slowly turned to face the couple.

"Booth," Brennan eyed her partner suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Gimme the key to your car Bones." He held out his hand, a serious expression on his face.

"No, absolutely not! That car was a gift…"

"Bones, just trust me on this. I cannot stand the thought of this guy popping up out of nowhere every time we park in this garage," he whispered. "Now give me the key to your car."

She glared at him as she reached into her bag and retrieved her keys. After she took her car key off the key ring, she shoved it into Booth's hand. "If he puts so much as a scratch on that car, you will be held responsible," she seethed.

Displaying his full charm smile, Booth leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

He watched as the meaning of his words registered with her and a smile reappeared on her lips. "Besides how much damage can he do moving your car 75 feet to his parking space, huh?"

Howard had slowly waddled his way back to the couple. "What are you suggesting Agent Booth?"

"I'm suggesting that you take this key and move Dr. Brennan's car," he said as he pointed to the small silver sports car, "to your space. And I'll just park in her space until this matter is taken care of….deal?"

"Can I tell people that it's my car?" Howard put his hand out to accept the key.

"Tell them you're leasing it with an option to buy," he said as he gave the doctor the key. "That way when they want to know what happened to it…."

"I can say that it 'just wasn't me'." Howard nodded his approval of Booth's plan. "Let's move them now!"

"Fine, Howie. Bones get back in the SUV," Booth said as he turned around, taking his keys out of his pocket.

"Booth, the entrance to the lab is right there," she said as she tried to walk past him.

"Temperance, you're not going anywhere without me. Now please don't argue and just get in the car."

Brennan relented and began walking back to the SUV. "Did you tell him to be careful with my car?"

Booth rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder as he watched the happy archeologist fulfill a dream of parking a car in his authorized space. "Doesn't take a lot to make some squints happy," he murmured.

The deafening sound of the explosion hit Booth before it propelled him forward to the ground. The power of the blast threw Brennan into the side of the SUV where she had stopped to wait on her partner.

Brennan felt a nauseating pain tear through her right side as she hit the SUV and she immediately knew that several of her ribs were broken. As she fell to the pavement, her last thought before blacking out was whether Booth was okay.

Feeling the debris and glass from Brennan's sports car falling around him, Booth covered his head. "Temperance!" he screamed. His ears were ringing from the explosion and he knew that even if she answered him, he wouldn't be able to hear her. Raising his head, Booth's eyes searched the garage. He saw several people rushing toward him and one lone figure lying motionless on the ground.

"Temperance," he whispered.

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"Oh my god, oh my god," Angela mumbled as she paced the waiting room in the emergency room area. Zach sat motionless on one of the long uncomfortable benches watching her. As Hodgins entered the area with a cup of hot tea, his heart wrenched at the sight of Angela's pain. Placing the cup of tea on the table near Zach, he waited for her to turn around before pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Ange, they're both okay," he said soothingly as he felt her arms wrap around him. "Brennan's going to be okay."

"I need to see her Jack," she whispered. "I won't believe them until I see her."

He pulled back from her slightly and smiled. "Then let's go see her."

"But they said we had to wait here," Zach stated. "Those are the rules…we have to wait here."

"Yeah but I'm a rebel baby. Remember?" Hodgins released Angela from his embrace and took her hand, pulling her to the patient area of the ER.

"Sir, ma'am…you can't go in there," a nurse advised sternly as they walked past the front desk.

"Watch us," Hodgins said. "You won't tell us anything about our friends so we're going to go back here and find out what's happening ourselves!"

He pulled Angela along as he walked through, pulling curtains aside and peering through doors. They finally located Booth in a small curtained area getting the last of his few lacerations cleaned.

"Have you two seen Bones?" He winced as the nurse put antiseptic on the wound.

Angela shook her head. "They won't tell us anything either."

"Well we'll just have to find her then," Booth said as he stood and retrieved his jacket from the end of the hospital bed.

"See Ange…stick with me and Booth. We're like two peas in a pod." He slapped the agent's shoulder, causing Booth to wince in pain. "Sorry man."

"No problem. But you do that again and I'm throwing you out of the pod…man."

The trio left the area and began wandering down the hallway searching for Brennan. A security guard approached them with the nurse from the front desk.

"I'm sorry but you two can't be back here," the young man stated nervously as three sets of eyes glared at him.

Booth flashed his badge in front of the man. "They're with me and none of us are leaving until we find my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. Which room is she in?"

The guard glanced over at the nurse who rolled her eyes. "Oh for god's sake, follow me. Damn stubborn people…don't wanna follow no rules…nu-uh, following rules is not the cool thing to do. Here, this is the room! I shoulda known her damn friends would be as stubborn as she is," she said as she stomped away from them.

Booth smiled before opening the door. If Brennan had managed to piss off one of the nurses then she was more than okay.

"Bones?"

They found her sitting on a bed, a hospital gown covering her upper body. Angela rushed past Booth to get to Brennan. "Sweetie!"

"Don't hug me Ange…I'm fairly certain the ribs on my right side are broken. I'm just waiting for Dr. Seats to confirm it." She winced with each breath and watched as a disappointed Angela dropped her arms.

"Fine, sweetie but the minute you are completely healed…big hug!"

Brennan nodded and then turned her attention to Booth. He had small cuts on his cheeks and forehead and she noticed that the left arm of his white dress shirt was torn and bloody. "Are you okay?" she asked.

The relief of seeing her alive and then her concern for him overwhelmed Booth. He felt his eyes begin to water and realized he was on the verge of tears. He stepped toward her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm good now," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Howard Nouvelle wasn't so lucky," she said softly.

Booth shook his head, guilt quietly settling in over the little man's death. At least it wasn't Temperance, he reminded himself. It wasn't Temperance.

"Okay Dr. Brennan you do indeed have three broken ribs," Dr. Seats announced as he breezed into the room. "And three unauthorized visitors I see." He eyed Booth, Hodgins and Angela with amusement before he placed the x-rays on a board, switching on the light.

"Yes, pretty nasty breaks…I can see from your x-rays though that you're no stranger to that…"

Angela and Booth both glanced over at Brennan. "Sweetie? El Salvador…?" the artist asked her best friend softly.

"Yeah." She nodded and avoided Booth's gaze. There were still certain things she was hesitant to share with Booth, especially with his overprotective nature.

"You can go ahead and get dressed now Dr. Brennan. I'm going to write out a prescription for a pain killer just in case you have trouble sleeping or the pain becomes too much. It shouldn't interfere with the medication for your panic attacks." He scribbled out the prescription and handed it to Booth. "Exactly how did you become injured?"

"Her car was blown to smithereens by a bomb," Hodgins offered.

"Oh goodness," Dr. Seats replied as he watched Brennan slowly slide off the bed with Angela's help. "I'm going to write out another prescription for the panic attacks too…"

"Why don't you guys wait outside while I help Bren?" Angela gestured for Booth and Hodgins to leave.

The two men exited the room and stood in the hallway watching as sick people were wheeled past them. "Panic attacks huh?"

"Angela didn't tell you?" Booth looked over at the entomologist.

"Nope. Contrary to popular belief, Angela is very good at keeping secrets…especially Brennan's." He placed his hand on Booth's shoulder. "In all seriousness man, I really am glad you two are okay."

"Me too," he whispered. He couldn't put a face to the person who had tried to harm Temperance this time as he had with Kenton and that frustrated the hell out of Booth. It also scared him.

"Jack I want you to stay here and wait for Temperance and Angela. Do not leave the building. I need to make a phone call." Booth slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and removed pieces of his cell phone.

"Damn it all to hell," he muttered as he spied a pay phone a little further down the corridor.

He put his money in the slot and dialed Cullen's number. "Sir, it's Booth. Yes we're both fine….no neither one of us will be staying overnight…sir, I need a favor….I need extra agents placed around the Jeffersonian and outside of Dr. Brennan's apartment….yes, I understand that we're understaffed right now. That's why it should be on a volunteer basis. Thank you sir. Could you also have a team sweep Dr. Brennan's apartment for any other explosives and possibly bugs? Thank you…Goodbye sir."

Booth placed the phone on the hook and leaned his head against the pay phone. The happy image of Brennan kissing him had been replaced with the nightmarish image of her lying on the pavement of the parking garage, fiery debris falling all around her. He imagined that somewhere in Hell, McVicar was laughing at him.

**Author's notes: Sorry for the short chapter. This is all I managed to write today between running errands and getting ready to start my next round of midnight shift. I promise to try and update soon! I also promise you that I will never, never, never ever kill one of the main characters of this series. I may harm them a little but I will never kill one of them.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 23**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own them.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and special thanks for reviewing.**

**(looks at the cookie from the tangoing-mango-addict)—Dang it, why do these have to be so good?**

**To Howdylynn—Enjoy your BONES party! I like the idea of the skeleton decorations. (LOL)**

**To siapom—Sorry about killing Howie but he appeared for a reason. (grin)**

**To jaed621—I think your request for some fluffiness seeped into my thought process so this chapter is for you…hope you like it.**

**And to BonesDBchippie—See what happens when you leave me alone for a few days? That's right—explosions! Car bombs! And an injured Booth and Brennan! Hopefully I've made up for any anxiety I caused with this chapter. (wink)**

**Be sure to hit the little review button and let me know what you think.**

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Brennan suppressed a groan of irritation as Booth and her team followed her into her apartment. She moved slowly toward the dining room table and gingerly sat down in one of the chairs.

She understood her friends' need to ensure that she and Booth were okay but the constant barrage of questions was grating on her already frayed nerves. The only moment of silence she had enjoyed since reaching her apartment building came in the stairwell after Booth had revealed that McVicar had died. Brennan decided that although the two story journey of stairs had been physically excruciating, the silence had been nice.

"Angela could you please bring my bag over here and place the files that are inside on the table," she requested, noting her best friend's disapproving look.

"Sweetie…someone just tried to blow you up. Perhaps you need to take the rest of the day off." She dropped the bag on the table and removed the folders.

"I did take the rest of the day off from the lab Ange but that doesn't mean I can't examine the contents of these files in my own home," she snapped. "Now you can either help or you can all leave so that Booth and I can work on this."

Angela sighed as she looked over at Booth who was slowly removing his jacket, wincing slightly. "Fine, I'll help…if you'll take at least one pain killer."

"No," Brennan said as she shook her head. "We're overlooking something on this case and if I'm medicated in some way I might miss it."

"Half of one then, Bren. You're obviously in pain and you're taking it out on us." She glared at Brennan, daring her to deny the accusation.

"Fine," she said as Angela walked to the refrigerator and retrieved several bottles of water. "If I keep racking up the prescriptions, I'll never get to drink alcohol again," she grumbled.

Booth moved to the table and took a seat beside Brennan. He grimaced at the sight of the ugly purplish-blue bruise forming on the right side of her forehead. He didn't even want to imagine what her side looked like.

Hodgins and Zach took their seats while Angela passed out the bottles of water and retrieved Brennan's pain medication from Booth's jacket. Breaking a tablet in half, she handed it to Brennan. "Here."

"Thanks," she muttered as she took the tablet and placed it in her mouth.

Angela sat down on the other side of Brennan and began removing files and photographs from the folders. "Any particular order you want these arranged in?"

Brennan looked over at Booth who shrugged and then winced again. His shoulder was going to be sore for a few days.

"Since we don't know what we're looking for, let's just start at the beginning," Brennan decided.

"Okay, here are the photographs that I took at the grave sites including the surrounding area." Angela carefully laid out each photograph allowing the others at the table to study them.

"But that's not really the beginning of this case," Zach said after several minutes as he glanced around the table. "We're forgetting about the map and the letter."

"The people in Documents said a right handed male wrote the letter and drew the map," Booth interjected.

Angela's dark eyes skimmed the copy of the letter. "Whoever wrote this…there's a feeling of remorse. 'Please forgive me for what I've done' and 'Every person deserves a proper burial'—does that sound like something a cold blooded killer would write?"

"My guess is that whoever wrote that letter and drew that map was involved but they didn't kill Ronald and Katherine. That map was so detailed there was no way those bodies couldn't have been found," Hodgins agreed.

"Okay, that's good work for a couple of squints," Booth congratulated the team with a smile. "So we've got a killer and we've got a remorseful accomplice. I think we can cross off the theory of Elaine putting a hit out on Katherine and then Ronald getting caught in the crossfire. If she had hired someone, they wouldn't be local and it would have been one person."

"Agreed," Brennan said as she stifled a yawn.

Angela smiled at her knowing her best friend's low tolerance for medication and alcohol. "You doing okay sweetie?"

"Not bad at all," she responded as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"I'll bet you're feeling pretty darn good about now." She grinned as Brennan propped her head in her left hand struggling to stay awake.

"Not as good as I felt last night after I stubbed my toe." Brennan's gaze fell upon Booth who was blushing and grinning at the same time. Angela's interest was immediately piqued.

"Really? I don't usually feel that great when I stub my toe…" she said as she raised her dark eyebrows at Booth.

"Well you've never kissed Booth," Brennan replied in a drowsy tone.

Angela could barely contain her excitement at her best friend's drug induced confession.

"Okay, I think it's time for you all to leave," Booth stood up and began to walk toward the front door to escort the squint squad out. "The injured parties in the room need to recuperate."

"What the hell are in those things—truth serum?" Hodgins picked up the bottle of pain killers and studied the label. "Whoa-ho-ho-ho man…they gave her some really good stuff! This is the kind of stuff they gave to Keith Richards when he fell out of that coconut tree and I bet that even knocked _him_ on his ass!"

"Should we take her back to the hospital?" Zach glanced over at his mentor with great concern.

"Nah, she'll sleep it off. Let's ask her a few more questions," Hodgins said as he sat down across from Brennan whose blue eyes were now glazed over.

Suddenly the entomologist felt a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt, lifting him out of the chair. "I repeat—it is time to leave," Booth said as he hauled Hodgins to the door with Zach following close behind. "That's means you too Angela."

With a heavy sigh, Angela stood and looked down at Brennan. "I love ya sweetie," she said as she leaned down and kissed the top her best friend's head.

"Love you too Ange," she mumbled in response.

The artist walked toward the door which was being held open by Booth. She reached out and placed her hand on his right forearm as she stared at him. "You two be careful," she said softly. "Call if you need anything."

He smiled at her and nodded as she exited the apartment and then shut the door firmly behind the squint squad.

When Angela entered the hallway she held her hand out in front of Hodgins. He rolled his eyes and reached into his back pocket to remove his wallet.

"I'm beginning to think you have some type of psychic power Angela," he said as he handed her twenty dollars.

"Nope…I'm just a keen observer of human nature." She grinned at him.

"Wait, what are you two talking about?" Zach studied them attempting to understand their 'code'.

"A man and a woman with the amount of intense sexual attraction that Bren and her G-man have cannot live together without certain….events occurring," she explained.

"What events?" Zach questioned innocently.

Angela and Hodgins glanced at each briefly. "I'll explain when you're older Zach," she said as she pushed his shoulder to turn him around. As the trio made their way to the stairwell, Angela felt Hodgins' hand on the small of her back. As a self-proclaimed keen observer of human nature, she knew the gesture meant more to both of them than either was ready to reveal quite yet.

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After tossing out Brennan's team, Booth ambled to the dining room table and found Brennan staring at him with a smile on her face.

"You're really stoned aren't you?" he teased as he looked into her eyes.

"I don't know what that means," she replied in a happy carefree tone.

Laughing at her, he moved to her side and helped her stand. "It means it's time to rest and let our injuries heal a little bit."

Booth guided her down the hallway to her bedroom. Brennan walked over to the bed and pulled down the comforter before lying down. He shook his head and chuckled as he walked over and removed her boots, placing them on the floor at the foot of the bed. After staring at her for a few moments, he turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To sleep on the couch Bones."

She moved over a little further to the right side of the bed. "Nope…bed."

The woman would never cease to amaze him. He carefully removed his dress shirt, trying to minimize the movement of his sore left shoulder. After kicking off his shoes, Booth carefully took his place in bed beside her.

He positioned himself on his right side with his right arm cradling her neck and head while he intertwined his left hand with hers, resting on her abdomen.

"Booth?" she mumbled as her eyes slowly closed.

"Yeah Bones?"

"I'm glad you're okay."

Booth watched her for a moment as her breathing evened out and smiled. "I'm glad you're okay too Bones."

"I love you," she muttered as sleep finally claimed her.

Even if she didn't remember it, Seeley Booth would never forget the first time Brennan said she loved him. His heart swelled with happiness as he kissed her forehead.

"I love you too," he whispered.

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The first thing Brennan noticed as her drug induced fog lifted was how much her right side hurt. She attempted to control her breathing to minimize the ache that occurred with each breath. The second thing she noticed was Booth's handsome face very close to hers. A small smile spread across her features as her eyes filled with tears.

Ignoring the pain, she slowly raised her right arm and used her hand to caress his left arm. In response to her touch, Booth's left hand, still intertwined with hers, squeezed her hand. She allowed her hand to travel up his arm to his shoulder and then grazed his chest before traveling up to his face.

Gently outlining the small cuts he'd received from the falling debris and glass, Brennan realized how much this particular man meant to her. She had refused to think about it earlier. But now, in the darkness of her bedroom with the moonlight shining on Booth's features, Brennan knew that her world would have shattered if anything had happened to him.

A few tears escaped from her eyes as she continued to softly trace the outline of his jaw and then his lips with her fingers. Love….that was the feeling that she had been unable to pinpoint. Now it hit her as hard as the explosion in the garage had. She loved Seeley Booth….she was _in love_ with Seeley Booth.

Her complete opposite was also her perfect match. He challenged her, riled her, encouraged her, tempted her, took care of her and….loved her. Brennan suddenly realized how blind she had been to Booth's actions. Looking back, she knew that every day, every moment they had spent together, Booth had in some way let her know how he felt.

As Booth's eyes fluttered open, he saw tears falling down Brennan's face. "Temperance? What's wrong?"

Placing her hand on his cheek, she stroked her thumb across his lips. "Absolutely nothing," she whispered.

He moved to pull her closer to him and they both groaned slightly in pain.

"Ow, what a pair," he said as he winced. The soreness of his entire body now matched the soreness of his shoulder.

"Don't make me laugh," she warned as she slowly moved her right hand from his face.

"Ugh…how do you feel?" He let his head drop back on the pillow as he nuzzled his face close to hers.

"Like I got blown up. You?"

"Yep, pretty much the same."

"I think a nice long hot shower is in order," she said wistfully. The only problem was moving her hurt body off the bed and into the bathroom.

"That's sounds good," Booth agreed. "Is your shower big enough for two?" He displayed his full charm smile for her benefit.

"Hmmm….maybe if we both weren't injured," she teased.

Booth groaned slightly. "Oh you're not playing fair."

"All's fair in love and war." They stared at each, allowing the word 'love' to encompass them. After a moment, Brennan cleared her throat. "Can you, uh, help me get up?"

He smiled and then winced as he slowly climbed off the bed and then assisted her. As she gradually made her way to the bathroom, Booth grinned. He remembered that Angela had had to help her get dressed at the hospital. "You need help with anything else Bones? Clothing perhaps?" He winked at her as she turned to face him.

"Maybe later Booth." Brennan returned his wink with one of her own and then entered the bathroom.

God, I love that woman, he thought as he watched the bathroom door close.

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After they had both showered and changed their clothing, the couple sat at the dining room table pouring over the papers and photographs from the Thompsons' case. Booth studied each photograph that Angela had taken of the grave sites while Brennan reviewed Hodgins' fiber analysis and the sells records from the gun dealer they had interviewed.

Each sat quietly, lost in their individual tasks. Booth's sable eyes scanned the photographs carefully. His gut told him that Brennan was right—they were overlooking something. It was something obvious but what?

He picked up the next photograph which was of a group of trees near the graves and quickly placed it back in the pile. Suddenly the something obvious registered with him and he grabbed the photograph from the stack again.

"Bones have you got the letter and the map over there?"

She opened one of the files, located the items and handed them to him. "You found something?"

He nodded as he placed the photograph, the letter and the map on the table in front of her. "What do you see?"

Brennan studied each item carefully. Her gaze met his as the connection he had made registered with her. "How did we miss that?"

"It was hidden in plain sight…the best way to ensure that no one ever sees it."

"Well I think that may be the case with this too." She placed the folder with the gun sales in front of him. "Mark Gentle highlighted all of his sales to Ronald Thompson. Initially that's all we looked at, remember?" Booth nodded as she continued. "We should have checked out every person on the list who purchased guns on the _same day_ as Ronald Thompson. There's only one name that appears every time Booth."

She pointed to the name listed below Ronald's and watched as Booth's eyes widened in surprise.

"I bet one of _those_ guns will match your reverse engineering thing-a-ma-bob."

Brennan smiled at him slightly. "It's funny how you can manage to remember 'reverse' and 'engineering' but you always conveniently forget 'image'."

Grinning sheepishly, he shrugged.

"Do you think you'll feel up to a trip to Willow Lake tomorrow? A couple of interrogations?" He watched as she slowly stood and walked into the kitchen.

She nodded as she opened a bottle of water. "I think that catching a killer will make me feel much better."

"That's my girl," he said as he pointed at her.

**Author's notes: Again I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. I was literally typing with my eyes closed at one point. Please excuse any errors…it's all due to sleep deprivation. (LOL)**


	24. Chapter 24

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 24**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with BONES.**

**Author's notes: Thanks to all of you who continue to follow this very long story and special thanks to everyone who continues to review.**

**To jaed621—(holds out an empty glass) Care to share the wine? (wink) I'm glad to know you are still doing a happy dance.**

**To BonesDBchippie—You win…only Advil for any further aches and pains which I'm certain will heal miraculously in the next chapter or two. (LOL)**

**And of course to elliot02uk (dear, dear Jean)—That was not snorting you heard! I swear it only sniffling due to sinus trouble…and being left by my lonesome whilst my proofreader walked along the sea wall. (big grin) By the way, when I typed "his concern laid fully", I initially wrote it as "lay" and the same thing with "none of us are (is) leaving". I changed it when my Microsoft Word spell/grammar check challenged my, erm, usually strong command of the English language. (wink) I knew I should have listened to Hodgins when he started his conspiracy rant on how Microsoft's spell/grammar check will be the downfall of our literary society! (LOL) Glad to know you're back because yes, I cannot manage without you.**

**As usual, read, enjoy and please let me know what you think!**

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The burnt disintegrated parts of Brennan's car arrived at the lab early the next morning. Hodgins and Zach carefully sifted through the wreckage, arranging jagged pieces as one would a macabre jigsaw puzzle.

As Angela ascended the platform area she spotted them standing side by side arguing over which piece belonged where. She froze as she studied the remnants of Brennan's car laid out on the table. The image of her best friend lying injured in the parking garage would surely haunt her for a long time. Now the image of her mangled torched car would become part of the already vivid nightmare.

"I believe that's part of the rear axle," Zach said as Hodgins moved a small piece of metal from one pile to another.

"Like you know anything about cars," the entomologist snorted. "Besides we're not rebuilding Brennan's car. We're sifting through this to find the components of the bomb."

"Why isn't the FBI doing this?" Zach studied a scorched piece of unidentifiable metal.

"Because Booth told them to send it to us," Angela answered as she approached them. "Any luck?"

"We're gradually working our way through what they could recover yesterday….minus the bits of Dr. Nouvelle." Hodgins stared at the artist, noting her sad expression as she looked at the items on the table. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said as she nodded her head. "It's just…it's sad that he died in that horrible explosion but I'm so glad that it wasn't Bren, you know?"

"We all are," Zach agreed. "It's extremely feasible that if Agent Booth had not taken the initiative to steal Dr. Nouvelle's parking space and then concocted the plan for him to move Dr. Brennan's car…"

"Booth did not 'concoct' anything Zach," Hodgins corrected. "We're all just damn lucky things played out the way they did. Otherwise he would have thought the threat to Brennan's life was over and allowed her to drive…"

"Enough!" Angela snapped at them. "Please, enough. Jack's right…we're lucky. _They_ were lucky. Now you two just try to find out something to help Booth catch the bastard behind this."

She turned on her heel and quickly walked to her office, closing the door and her blinds behind her.

"Do you think she's okay?" Zach glanced over at Hodgins who was staring at the artist's office door.

"No, she's not," he answered softly.

"I would have to concur…simply on the basis that she said 'Jack's right'."

Turning his gaze to the young assistant, Hodgins removed his gloves and disposed of them. "Start swabbing a few of the pieces for any possible residue from the components of the bomb."

As he descended the stairs and started toward Angela's office he heard Zach calling after him. "But how do I label where the swabs came from if I don't know what I'm swabbing?"

"You're supposed to be a genius…figure it out Einstein."

He stopped outside of her door and knocked before proceeding inside. "Hi. Do you mind if I come in?"

Seated at her desk with a sketch pad in her hands, Angela shrugged. "Sure."

Taking a seat across from her, Hodgins watched as the pencil in her hand glided effortlessly across the paper. He had no idea what she was drawing but he knew that it would be another beautiful piece of art. He had long admired her ability to translate her emotions onto a tablet or a canvass and have everyone who looked at it understand who she was and what she felt in that moment.

"Did you want something Jack? Or did you come in here to stare at me all day?" She studied him as she looked over the top of the sketch pad. The blue shirt really brings out his eyes, she thought appreciatively.

"I…uh…I'm sorry."

"For what?" First Brennan had entered her office and apologized and now Hodgins. Not only was her office the new hangout, it was apparently a confessional as well.

"For what I said…on the platform…what Zach and I said…sorry."

"It's okay." She sighed as she placed the pad on her desk. "I'm just being overly sensitive I suppose."

"I thought artists were supposed to be sensitive," he teased gently. "Besides I thought you would be concentrating on Brennan's little confession from yesterday."

Angela smiled slightly. "Yeah, that is a much nicer topic."

Glad to see that he had elicited a smile from her, Hodgins stood and moved toward the door.

"Hey Jack."

"Yeah Ange."

"What would you say to having lunch with me later?"

He grinned at her. "I would say that's the least you can do with the twenty bucks you got off me."

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"Okay, Hodgins and Zach should be knee deep in what's left of your car by now." Booth snapped his new cell phone shut and pressed down on the accelerator increasing the speed of the SUV as they traveled down the long stretch of highway.

"Hopefully they can find some components of the bomb or at least swab the remnants to determine what materials and chemicals were used." Brennan glanced over at him, noting how tense his posture had become when the topic of the car bomb came up. "How's your shoulder this morning?"

"Stiff…but better. You still doing okay?"

"Yeah. It's just going to take awhile to heal. At least I can breathe a little easier today."

"How long did it take last time?" He looked over at her and saw her tense slightly. "Bones, what happened in El Salvador?"

"That's a long story Booth…"

"We've got thirty minutes before we get to Willow Lake," he countered.

"It will take longer than thirty minutes to tell you about that."

"There's not a 'Cliff Notes' edition of 'Brennan's Last Trip to El Salvador'?"

"I don't know what that means," she said as she turned away from him and stared out the window.

He rolled his eyes. Of course she wouldn't know about Cliff Notes—he was certain she had never used them in her life.

"You were obviously injured in some way…I heard Angela when that doctor mentioned your previous injuries."

"Booth, would you care to discuss the damage to the soles of your feet that I observed on _your_ x-rays?"

He noticed that her tone of voice was different almost as if she had emotionally detached herself from the conversation.

"No, I wouldn't," he answered after a moment. Had she suffered some sort of torture comparable to what he had endured in Saudi Arabia? Booth realized that he had never contemplated the inherent dangers of her job although he should have, given her world travel experience.

"Then just drop it…please."

"Okay," he agreed softly.

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"What the hell happened to you two?" Sheriff Fife asked as they entered his office. "Accuse someone else of a murder they didn't commit?"

"No, a crime syndicate put a bomb in my car," Brennan replied succinctly as she walked past him and took a seat.

Fife stared at her for a moment before turning to Booth. "Is she serious?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Booth saw Brennan open her mouth and he quickly put his hands up. "Rhetorical question Bones…rhetorical."

"Oh…okay."

"Anyway, what brings you two back to my office? Did you solve the case?" He sat down behind his desk and stared at them.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Booth smiled at him as he tossed the evidence on the sheriff's desk. "We need your help though."

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"But Sheriff you know I wasn't speeding!" Billy exclaimed as Fife escorted him into the building. "Besides, the last time you pulled me over I just got a ticket. What's with the handcuffs?"

"People with badges and guns usually put murder suspects in handcuffs," Booth answered as Fife pushed Billy into the small interrogation room.

"Mur..murder?" the young man stammered. "What…what are you talking about?"

Brennan removed the photographs that Angela had taken of the site from her folder and arranged them in front of Billy. She then placed a copy of the letter and the map that Fife had received beside them.

"Oh god." Billy's normally tan skin became a sickly white color. "Oh god…how did…I just wanted you to find them. That's all…Natalie deserved to know where her parents were."

Booth sat down beside the scared young man and pushed the photographs of Ronald and Katherine's bodies closer to him. "You buried your girlfriend's parents near a tree where you carved yours and Natalie's initials as a declaration of love." He pointed to the photo of the tree that showed the outline of a heart with 'N.T and B.R.' scrawled into it.

He then held up the map and the letter. "I fairly certain my people will have no problem proving that this is your handwriting…same goes for the prints we found on the paper and envelope. Any good prosecutor in this state will be able to use all of this evidence to their advantage and paint you as an evil killer with no remorse." He leaned in closer to Billy. "That would guarantee the death penalty kid. But now someone who shows remorse and helps out the police…jurors can be quite forgiving of someone like that."

Billy sat frozen, staring at the mountain of evidence in front of him. Booth glanced over at Brennan and nodded for her to proceed with the next part of their strategy.

"Do you know how the state of Virginia executes murderers?" Brennan asked as she took a seat across from him. "Lethal injection. It sounds easy…they stick a needle in your arm and allow chemicals to enter your bloodstream. What they don't tell you is that the first chemical paralyzes you. You can't talk…can't move…can't cry out for them to stop."

Billy was sweating profusely as he listened to Brennan, his eyes darting back and forth between the anthropologist and the agent.

"Then they release the other chemicals which stop your breathing. The inside of your body will feel like it's on fire as you…."

"I didn't kill them!" he screamed and began crying. "I didn't kill them. I tried to stop her…I told her to call for help and she said no. She made me help her." The young man was now sobbing. "She made me…"

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"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan…oh goodness, what happened to you two?" Maggie studied the couple as they stood outside the front door of Elaine Thompson's residence.

"Short version—car bomb," Booth answered as he withdrew a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "This is a warrant to search the premises…you'll notice we have a special interest in _your_ living quarters."

"Maggie, who is it?" Elaine called out from the living room.

The small middle aged woman read through the details of the warrant and then glared at Booth and Brennan. "You two think you're so smart," she hissed. "Feel free to look through the entire house. You won't find anything."

"Maggie? Did you not hear me? Oh Agent…my goodness what happened to you two?" Elaine stopped short at the sight of the injured couple.

"Long story," Booth said as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Car bomb," Brennan replied. Booth threw her a questioning glance. "What? That was the short version."

"Good lord," Elaine gasped.

"Mrs. Thompson, we've just served Maggie with a warrant to search the residence—specifically her living quarters." He watched as the older woman grabbed the warrant from Maggie's hands.

"What on earth do you…?"

"We're searching for the gun that killed your son and his wife," Brennan said.

"You think Maggie had something to do with it? That's absurd. I'm calling my lawyer."

"Good idea. Maggie here is going to need one." Booth stepped past the two women into the foyer. "The warrant gives me permission to search the premises and that's what Dr. Brennan and I intend to do. Now _with_ your cooperation, there will be a minimal need for clean up…"

"Why do you think Maggie had anything to do with Ronald's murder?" Elaine cried.

"We don't _think_ she did Mrs. Thompson. We _know_ she did." Booth stared at Maggie who crossed her arms defiantly.

"And how exactly did you manage to come to this conclusion?" she asked as she stared back at Booth.

"Billy." The news of her nephew's betrayal caused Maggie to tremble with anger.

"That little bastard!" she screamed.

"Maggie." Elaine took a step back from her long time friend and helper. "Is it…is it true?"

"Call Joseph, Elaine," she said as she glared at Booth and Brennan. "I'm not saying anything else until a lawyer is present. These accusations are ridiculous."

Booth sauntered to the front door and beckoned for the deputy that Fife had sent with them. "Make sure that these ladies stay in the living room area while Dr. Brennan and I search the residence."

The deputy nodded and motioned for Elaine and Maggie to walk to the living room.

"Mrs. Thompson," Booth called after the older woman who stopped and turned back to him. "Where does Maggie stay?"

Still somewhat shocked at the accusations that had been hurled at her long time friend and helper, Elaine simply pointed to the long corridor to her left before she turned and continued walking to the living room.

Brennan started down the corridor, pulling two pairs of gloves from her jacket pocket. She handed a pair to Booth before sliding a pair on her hands. They opened each door and finally located Maggie's spacious room at the end of the corridor.

"It's always gotta be the last door you open," Booth muttered as they entered the room.

It was apparent that cleanliness was a priority to Maggie. Brennan swept a gloved hand across a small coffee table that was nestled between two plush chairs in one corner of the room and discovered that there was not a speck of dust to be found.

"That explains the extraordinarily clean crime scene," Booth said as Brennan held up her hand to show that there was nothing on the glove.

They began searching through drawers and closet spaces. Booth checked under the queen size bed and then flipped the mattress over. "Nothing," he said, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulder.

Brennan moved toward the bathroom area opening another closet door and the cabinet doors under the sink. "Nothing in here either," she called out to him.

She reentered the bedroom and found him pacing, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "It's got to be here Bones. We need that gun. Even with everything we've got…the prosecutor will only go after Billy. We have to tie her to the murder weapon."

Brennan watched as he continued to pace. The persistent creaking sound she heard each time Booth stepped on one particular area of the floor caught her attention. She waited for him to turn around and continue his trek before commanding him to stop.

"What? I know the pacing bothers you Bones but I'm thinking here…"

"No Booth, it's not that…although that does drive me crazy," she admitted. "Take one step back."

He did as she requested and heard the soft groan of the floor beneath his foot.

"Let's move this rug Bones."

Brennan winced as she bent down on one side of the large rug while Booth grabbed the other side. They pulled it back and Booth quickly walked over the hardwood floor to find the area again.

"Right here," he grinned.

Retrieving a small knife from the right pocket of her blue jeans, Brennan handed it to Booth. "I think I'll let you do the honors," she said as her right side began a dull ache.

He placed the blade between two boards and slowly pried one of the boards up. He removed another board and then lifted a large metal container that had been hidden under the floor.

Forgetting the pain in her side, Brennan quickly bent down as Booth opened the container to examine the contents.

"We just won the lottery Bones." He sifted through the contents of the container and let out a low whistle. "And we got the Powerball number too!"

She looked at him with a confused expression. "Is that another way of saying 'we just nailed her ass to the wall'?"

Booth grinned at her and nodded. "Yeah it is."


	25. Chapter 25

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 25**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with BONES.**

**Author's notes: Thanks for reading and special thanks to all of you who have taken the time to review.**

**To jaed621—Yes, you solved this little case a few chapters ago. Darn it and I thought I was being clever.**

**To BonesDBchippie—So that's where the wine is! (holds out an empty glass) **

**And to elliot02uk—You are very observant! Yes, that last chapter just wrote itself. I had initially planned to start with a scene between Booth and Brennan but Angela and Hodgins just took over. Unfortunately this chapter was not as easy—although that may have had more to do with the two hours of sleep I've had in the last day. Cliff Notes are a vital necessity for American high school and college students. It takes certain subjects (usually literature, always something Shakespearean) and condenses it so that the 'average person' can understand it. Most kids try to use Cliff Notes in place of actually reading the book…you know when they can't rent the movie. (LOL) And don't bother curbing your baser nature…I promise to write more B/B touching scenes soon. Also, I'm certain there will be more than one typo in this chapter since I didn't have time to proofread it! (LOL)**

**Okay everyone, it's that time again. Read, enjoy and please review.**

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The large metal container made a terrible thudding sound as Booth dropped it on the table in front of Maggie, Elaine and the seemingly ever present Joseph Keith.

"Agent Booth just what the hell is going on?" the lawyer demanded as he stood.

"Have a seat Mr. Keith," Booth instructed as he looked over at Maggie. She was visibly shaken by the sight of the container. "Maggie do you want to tell Elaine about this…or do you want me to do it?"

The now meek woman stared at Booth before glancing at Brennan who stood with her arms crossed beside her partner.

"Apparently she wants us to deliver the bad news," Brennan said as she uncrossed her arms and leaned down to open the container.

"You have no right," Maggie said forcefully.

"On the contrary…Agent Booth's warrant gives us every right," the anthropologist replied as she opened the container.

Elaine and Joseph stood to examine the contents which included numerous handguns on one side and a box holding what appeared to be hundreds of letters.

"I had no idea you kept guns in my home," Elaine said.

"She purchased all of these when she and Ronald attended gun shows together." Booth crossed his arms as he watched Maggie. "But that's not the only interest you share, was it?"

"What…what are you talking about?" Elaine looked from Maggie to the agent.

"You were so concerned with the possibility that your daughter-in-law may have been having an affair with Sheriff Fife," Brennan answered, "that you failed to see the affair between your son and Maggie."

"It was not an affair," the accused woman said. "Ronald…Ronald was my world. Calling what we had together an 'affair' cheapens the love we felt for each other."

Elaine grabbed Joseph's arm for support as she collapsed onto the couch. At that moment Natalie entered the room from the pool area. "Grandmother what's going on here?" The young girl's dark eyes glanced around at the people in the room. "What's in the box?"

As Natalie moved to inspect the box's contents, Joseph stepped in front of her. "You should go back outside. Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan just need to ask a few questions concerning your parents' case."

The teenager ignored the lawyer and glanced over his shoulder spying the vast amount of weaponry. "Whose guns are those?"

A pale shaken Elaine looked over at her granddaughter. "Please just go outside Natalie," she said softly.

The girl sighed loudly. "Fine…Maggie do you know where Billy is? He was supposed to pick me up thirty minutes ago. I've tried his cell phone and he's not answering."

Maggie glared at Booth and Brennan. "Why don't you ask them?"

"Okay what the hell is going on? Why would _they_ know where my boyfriend is?"

Joseph grabbed Natalie's arm and led her to the patio door. "Go outside!" He pushed her out the door and promptly closed the door.

"Maggie…what did you do?" Elaine asked, her eyes pleading for an explanation as to why her son was dead.

"Ronald and I fell in love…" she whispered. "I was here when he came by one day. He was upset with Katherine. He had seen her at the diner with Michael…Sheriff Fife. I comforted him and we talked. He started coming by on a regular basis and for a long time we were nothing more than friends."

Sighing she stood and moved toward the container. Booth reached out and grabbed her arm. "I want to show her the letters," she said. "I want her to read Ronald's words and understand how much he loved me."

"I'll get them. You have a seat." He picked up the box with the letters and placed it on the table in front of Elaine. The older woman slowly combed through the massive amount of letters, all written by her son.

"The only time Ronald and I argued was when the topic of Billy dating Natalie came up."

"So you two were getting along when you shot him to death?" Brennan posed the question with one eyebrow raised.

"That was…that was an unfortunate occurrence," she conceded. "Ronald was convinced that Michael and Katherine were seeing each other but he decided to try and save their marriage…for the sake of the kids. I went to their house that night with Billy. He was there to pick up Natalie and I…I wanted to let Ronald know that I couldn't accept his decision to end us. I was going to tell Katherine the truth."

"But things didn't go as you expected did they?" Booth asked.

"When we got there, they were already arguing. Katherine stormed down to the basement to gather all of the things Michael had given her in high school so she could burn them…to prove that she was over him. Ronald followed her and I followed him…"

"And you just happened to have a gun with you?" Booth's skepticism appeared to irk Maggie.

"I always carry a gun with me when I leave home. Ronald insisted on that! Safety was a big priority with him. So yes, Agent Booth I just happened to have a gun with me that night." She took a seat away from Elaine as though she could sense her friend and employer's disappointment. "She treated him horribly. The way she spoke to him that night….I'd had enough. I saw the chance to set him free of her, so I shot her. Ronald yelled at me and then he went to _her_…he comforted _her_. He chose that slut over me."

"So you shot him too. And then you continued to shoot both of them until the gun was empty" Brennan said. "Billy said that he tried to call for help but you stopped him. Why?"

"I wasted a year and a half of my life waiting for Ronald to leave her. I was not going to let him take the rest of my life." Her eyes were free of tears and held no remorse. "Billy heard the shots and came downstairs. I convinced him to help me…."

"No you forced him to help you," Booth corrected her. "You used Natalie as leverage against that poor kid. He helped you carry their bodies to his car and then you gave him instructions on where to bury them. What you didn't count on was that unlike you, Billy has a conscience."

"Which gun did you use?" Brennan asked. She was quickly growing tired of Maggie's excuses and lame explanations.

"Why don't you figure it out, _doctor_?" she replied sarcastically.

"She will," Booth said as he nodded at the deputy who stepped forward and placed handcuffs on Maggie's wrists.

"Joseph will you meet me at the sheriff's office?" she asked as the deputy escorted her to the foyer area.

"No he won't," Elaine answered. "He will not assist you in any way regarding this matter. You killed my son…you took my grandchildren's parents away from them…you ruined your poor nephew's life. I will make sure that you pay for what you've done. Get her out of my house."

"But Elaine…" The deputy pushed Maggie toward the front door and escorted her outside.

The older woman stood, facing Brennan and Booth. "What will happen to Billy?"

The agent sighed as he took the box of letters from her hands. "That's up to the DA, Mrs. Thompson…but he helped to destroy and hide evidence and hinder an investigation. Odds are good that his punishment will be pretty stiff."

"How was my granddaughter used as leverage?"

Booth paused as he studied her. "She threatened to harm Natalie if Billy went to the authorities. His only concern was keeping her safe…" He glanced over at Brennan, realizing that on one level he and Billy weren't so different.

"Joseph, I want you to consult with the other attorneys at your firm to provide the best defense for that young man," Elaine instructed.

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"I believe now would be the appropriate time to begin that task."

Joseph nodded as he slipped his cell phone from his jacket and exited the room. Elaine turned and stared out the large patio doors at her granddaughter who was seated by the pool, sulking. "I don't know how much more Natalie can take," she said softly. "This betrayal...Can you imagine that level of betrayal?"

Booth's gaze fell on his partner's face. To anyone who didn't know her, Brennan's demeanor seemed cold and detached but as he watched her he saw the pain in her eyes. He knew that she didn't have to imagine what Natalie was going through…and what new pain awaited her. Brennan had been living with the betrayal, lies and secrets—the trifecta of her parents' legacy—for months now.

"She'll get through it Mrs. Thompson," the anthropologist said gently. "With some help from her family, she'll get through it."

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"Wow," Angela said as Brennan and Booth finished filling in the rest of the team on the conclusion of the case. "Mild mannered Maggie was actually psycho…it's always the quiet ones."

"I really thought it was the sheriff," Hodgins said as he leaned back in one of the chairs in Brennan's office.

"And that's why Booth is the investigator and you're the bug and slime guy," Angela joked.

Hodgins chuckled as he watched her resituate herself on the couch next to Brennan.

"Were you able to determine what the bomb was comprised of?" Brennan asked, shifting slightly to accommodate the pain in her side.

"Standard volatile chemical compounds that are very common and virtually untraceable," Zach stated.

"In other words, it was a professional hit," Booth clarified. "Powerful bomb, big blast and no way to trace it back to anyone." His jaw clenched at the thought that they had possibly hit a dead end.

"That's what I just said Agent Booth." The young protégé appeared slightly offended.

"Yes, I know kid. I just needed to say out loud in a less squinty way." He lifted his body off the couch where he had been seated next to his partner. "Okay, I need to go to my office for a little while, make sure Ballistics put a rush on Maggie's guns so you can match everything up and we can close out the case. I'll be back later to pick you up Bones."

"I'll be here," she responded as she leaned her head back against the soft material of the couch.

Booth glanced around her office and smiled slightly. "Glad to see the old hangout is being used again." He winked playfully at Angela. "Not that your office wasn't nice but…"

"Nothing can compare to Brennan's," the artist finished for him, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.

The agent stared at Brennan for moment and then grinned. He left the office without saying another word.

"Come on Zach; let's finish up some of our paperwork for the case before Booth gets back." Hodgins stood and pushed the assistant toward the door.

As the entomologist exited the office he spotted Booth nearing the lab's exit. He jogged toward the agent with a file in his hand.

"Booth," he called out. "Hey man, wait up."

Turning to face the doctor, Booth raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What do you want?"

Hodgins held up the folder in his right hand. "I wanted to give this to you. They're stills from the surveillance video in the parking garage. When we were sorting through the pieces of Brennan's car, I decided to watch the video to see if I could determine where the bomb had been placed…you know by the trajectory of the debris and…"

"The point Hodgins? Please tell me there's a point to this." He grimaced, vividly recalling the moment of the blast.

"After I watched the video from that day, I pulled the videos from the previous days…"

"Is the person who planted the bomb on one of those videos?" Booth's heart began to beat rapidly.

Hodgins nodded and pulled two photographic stills from the folder in his hand. "I had one of our computer techs clean up the image. This is the guy that tried to kill Brennan."

Narrowing his eyes, Booth studied the photographs, which were amazingly clear. "Why didn't you mention this in Bones' office?"

"She's been through enough this week…hell, this year." Hodgins' gaze drifted to the floor. "Plus Angela was sitting there and she didn't need another reminder that her best friend is in danger."

Booth glanced up from the photographs and stared at the entomologist. He noticed how the other man's tone had softened when he said Angela's name. "Are you and Ange…?"

"What? No, man." He shook his curly head. "We're just friends. That's all…that's all she sees me as. A friend."

"Sometimes Hodgins," Booth said as he placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, "you've to walk before you can run."

"Not to pull a Brennan here or anything but I don't know what the hell that means man."

Booth grinned as he walked away, his stride full of new found confidence and purpose. "Thanks for these!" he said as quickly made his way out the door.

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Brennan closed her eyes, wishing the dull ache that had started behind her right eye would go away.

"Sweetie, you okay?" Angela watched as Brennan opened her crystal blue eyes and turned her face toward her.

They were both seated on the couch in Brennan's office. Angela sat facing her best friend, her left leg curled under her while her left elbow was propped on the back of the couch. Brennan had opted to stay in her current position with her head leaning back, her feet resting on the coffee table in front of her and her arms crossed.

"I'm fine Ange."

"It's just that…this was a pretty rough case and I know it stirred a lot of things up for you."

Brennan sighed. "Yes it did but I'm dealing with it."

"With Booth's help?"

"And yours." Brennan reached over and grabbed her friend's hand.

"Yes but the difference is that you and I are not going to make out." Angela laughed at Brennan's embarrassed expression. "I mean, I love you but you're not my type."

"That is the last time I take one of those pain killers," she groaned.

"So?" She squeezed Brennan's hand. "Any other new developments I need to know about?"

"Angela, I have several broken ribs and Booth suffered several injuries as well. Pain tends to be a bit of mood killer."

"Ah, but there was a 'mood'."

"Yes," Brennan conceded as her expression grew serious and thoughtful.

"Brennan, I know that look. Do not start analyzing this," Angela admonished. "This is not a science experiment. Booth has feelings for you and I know you have feelings for him too."

"I…" Brennan began.

"No! And I don't want to hear about ruining the friendship, partnership or any of that other crap. You two belong together."

"I agree," she said softly surprising Angela.

"I'm sorry, my hearing must be going. Did you just agree with something I said? Which part?"

"All of it. I _do_ have feelings for Booth that go beyond friendship…I can't deny that anymore. And I don't believe that a relationship would hinder our abilities to investigate cases and solves crimes. This past week has proven that."

Angela smiled as she took her left hand and swept a strand of Brennan's hair to the side, revealing the nasty bruise on her forehead. "Apparently that blast knocked some sense into you."

She nodded at her friend's insight. "It helped me to realize a lot of things."

"Then why do you look so sad sweetie? Having feelings for a man like Booth and having him return those feelings…believe me, it's a good thing."

"I know it's just…a little scary I suppose."

"Especially when you've never had that before, huh?"

Brennan stared at her friend and smiled. "I've had relationships before but Booth is different. I don't want to ruin this before we've even started."

"What are you talking about?" Angela's confusion was evident.

"He asked me about El Salvador…and I told him to drop it. He didn't mention it again. I think he might be upset with me. We didn't really speak to each other on the way back to DC." She closed her eyes again, upset with herself for possibly destroying the one relationship that she'd been willing to work on.

"Bren, he asked about what happened in El Salvador because he cares about you. That man wants _you_, all of you—the good, the bad, your past, your present and your future. You have to be willing to share all of that with him, not pick and choose what you think he should know about. And the same goes for him."

Brennan realized that once again her best friend was correct. She decided that she and Booth had a lot to discuss when they arrived at home later.

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The silence that filled his office was annoying Booth as he finished his report, outlining Maggie's confession in his narrative. He grabbed the remote lying on his desk and switched on the television that was situated near the conference table. With CNN reporters and anchors chattering away in the background, he returned his focus to his monitor.

"_We now go live to Victoria Beaumont who is standing outside the FBI's Chicago field office where she has an update on a seasoned federal agent and another man who were both found executed in the agent's home. Victoria?"_

"_Thank you Jacob. Special Agent Charles Andrews had been with the FBI for thirty-two years and was scheduled to retire in just a few short months."_

Booth's head turned quickly toward the television catching a glimpse of the photograph of Agent Andrews they displayed on the screen. He moved away from his desk and walked to the conference table, taking a seat near the television.

"_Early this morning the bodies of Agent Andrews and an unidentified man were discovered in his home after authorities received an anonymous 911 call. The Chicago field office released a statement about thirty minutes ago calling Agent Andrews' death a tragic atrocity. They also identified the other man as Mason Short, an informant that the fallen agent used on several cases."_

A photograph of Mason Short appeared on the screen and Booth felt his heart stop. He rushed to his desk to grab the pictures that Hodgins had given him of the suspect in the car bombing. It was the same man—same dark brown hair, same sharp angular features and the same creepy smile. The asshole had smiled while he placed a bomb in Brennan's car.

"_It is unclear why Mr. Short was at Agent's Andrews' home and the FBI declined to comment on whether the murders were possibly the result of a current investigation. They did confirm that so far they have been unable to locate the person who called 911."_

Booth stared at the pictures in his hands. The date that was stamped on the corner of the photographs caught his attention. It was one day after he had spoken with Agent Andrews…one day after he had shared sensitive information about Brennan's parents and Brennan herself.

"_This syndicate has a long memory and I can guarantee that fifteen years has done nothing to dull the betrayal he and Kava perpetrated." _Agent's Andrews words echoed in Booth's memory. Fifteen years…fifteen years ago Max Keenan was Matt Brennan and Andrews supposedly had no knowledge of his whereabouts at that point. _Matt Brennan_ disappeared fifteen years ago. Max Keenan had dropped off the radar twelve years before that.

Booth suddenly realized that Charles Andrews had played a part in the plot to kill Brennan. He had been part of the syndicate—probably receiving payoffs for years, he reasoned. But he had managed to keep tabs on Max Keenan and his family. The pieces fell into place as Booth silently formulated his theory. The difficult part would be proving his theory….and delivering the news to the woman he loved.


	26. Chapter 26

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 26**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with BONES. I do, however, own quite a few blank DVDs on which to record the new episodes! **

**Warning: The rating of this story has been changed to M. **

**Author's notes: As always I appreciate everyone taking the time to read this story and a special thank you to those who have continued to review and encourage me.**

**To BonesDBchippie—Yes, I saw the second season premiere last night. (jumps up and down) I'm not going to spoil it for those people who haven't seen it but…(squeals) David Boreanaz and Emily Deschanel were just magnificent last night. I enjoyed David on "Angel" and "Buffy" for years and I've become a very big fan of Emily's work.**

**And to elliot02uk (my bud Jean B.)—I feel that I owe you, as well as everyone else who has read this story, an apology for the last chapter. After I took the time to read over it (after posting), I personally felt that it was horribly written and I never should have posted it. I struggled with each word and rewrote sentences over and over again. I should have left it alone, gotten some sleep and then tried again…but I've been told many a time that you cannot tell a stubborn 'Taurus' what to do. (LOL) Anyway, I did finally take the time to rest on my first day off, watched the season premiere of BONES and listened to Lifehouse's song "Everything" for inspiration. Hopefully the sleep has served me well. (wink) Oh and 'trifecta' basically means 'triple'. I simply meant that Brennan's parents' left her and Russ with the three things I mentioned as their legacy.**

**It's that time again. Read, enjoy and review. I'm not sure how much is left of this particular story but hopefully this chapter will make up for all of the angst I've put the characters (especially poor Brennan) and all of you through.**

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It was after 10 p.m. on a Thursday night and traffic was still heavy on the streets of DC. Booth squeezed his tired eyes shut for a moment as he sat in his SUV waiting for the longest red light in history to become green. His gaze strayed from the light to the café on his right full of men and women mingling together inside the business as well as outside at the small tables. One particular couple, seated close together, caught his attention. The petite blonde woman was staring at the man seated next to her with obvious adoration in her eyes as her hand skimmed over the top of his.

Booth immediately thought of Brennan. While he sometimes wished that she would display her affections more, he knew that Brennan gave what she could in the moment. He knew that when Brennan touched his arm or even when she had kissed him, she did it to convey an intense feeling that perhaps she couldn't rationally put into words. She wasn't like Tessa or Rebecca had been with him. Both women from his past had used their feminine wiles as a means to get something from him. Tessa's 'something' was usually a black tie affair in a room full of lawyers where she paraded him like a piece of eye candy. Rebecca's 'something' always pertained to his son.

No, when Brennan wanted something from him she would just ask…or demand. He smiled at the memory of her phone call from New Mexico telling him what connecting flights he would have to make in order for him to fulfill her request of "getting federal" on the sheriff's ass. Only Brennan would book the necessary flights without consulting with him first and then ask if he would do her a favor. He chuckled at her reverse sense of logic.

The sound of a car horn honking behind him broke his reverie and Booth realized the light was now green. As he drove through the busy downtown area to get to the Jeffersonian, Booth's mood grew somber as he recalled his conversation with Cullen about the death of Agent Andrews.

_Placing the photographic stills from the surveillance video that Hodgins had provided him on the Cullen's desk, Booth took a seat across from his boss._

"_What's this?" Cullen asked as he looked at the photos._

"_That's the man who put the bomb in Dr. Brennan's car," he replied as his jaw clenched. "One of the people on her team watched the surveillance video and was able to pull that man's image."_

"_Good work. We'll run this through…"_

"_There's no need, sir. The news identified him as Mason Short…an informant." Booth ran his right hand through his hair._

"_What the hell was this guy doing on the news Booth?" Cullen allowed the photographs to fall from his hand onto the desk as he leaned back._

"_He was found murdered…along with Special Agent Charles Andrews, in Andrews' home."_

"_The same Agent Andrews that you spoke with about Dr. Brennan's parents?" Cullen stared at him. "Booth, you know I don't believe in coincidences."_

_He nodded. "I know sir, neither do I. I came to you to see if you could make a request for Agent Andrews' financial records and accounts."_

"_You think he was part of the plot to kill McVicar and Dr. Brennan? Booth, that is a serious charge to make…especially when it concerns a fallen fellow agent." He watched as the young agent's hard gaze met his._

"_I wouldn't make such a charge unless I really felt there was something to it. Besides, sir, the man who tried to kill Temperance was found in his home…there's obviously some sort of connection." Booth leaned forward. "I think Andrews took payoffs from the syndicate that Brennan's parents were part of…a sort of 'hey look the other way on this and you'll be rewarded'. I think that when the syndicate became more violent, Max Keenan and Patrick Kava, who were old friends, decided to leave. They skimmed five million dollars of the syndicate's money and put it somewhere."_

"_Where?"_

"_I have no idea. Kava's accounts under the name 'Jacob Curry' came back clean. Max Keenan may have it. The point is I believe that Andrews found out Max and Kava's plans to leave and decided to make a little more money on the side. Russ Brennan told me that Max went on fishing trips once a month with a friend named 'Pat'. I think Max and Kava continued to make small scores so that Andrews wouldn't tell anyone their locations."_

_Cullen chewed thoughtfully on the end of a pen as he listened to Booth's theory. "But McVicar shows up in Chicago and spooks Matt and Christine Brennan…"_

"_Causing them to run and ruining Andrews' extra honey pot. Max obviously sent Kava back to ensure that Temperance was taken care of and that Andrews wouldn't find her."_

_After several moments of tense silence, Cullen picked up his phone. "I'll make a few calls and see what we can do about obtaining his financial information."_

"_Thank you sir," Booth said as he stood._

"_But Booth," Cullen said as he narrowed his eyes at the agent, "this theory of yours is not to leave this office. Understood? I don't want wild accusations about a fallen agent thrown around until we have all of the evidence. That includes telling Dr. Brennan."_

"_But sir…"_

"_No 'buts' Seeley. You tell her and I'll pull you off this case. I've been lenient thus far allowing her to be part of the investigation."_

_The thought of keeping part of her parents' case from Brennan made his stomach churn but he knew that Cullen's threat was serious. "I understand sir." _

_Booth felt that slamming the deputy director's door as he left the office made it quite clear to his superior that no, he didn't really understand or agree._

As he pulled the SUV into the parking deck, Booth was amazed at how quickly the debris had been cleaned up with the exception of a few scorch marks. He parked in Brennan's new assigned space and quickly made his way into the lab. He approached her office, anticipating seeing her face after a few hours away from her but he found the office empty. He glanced at her desk and noticed a piece of paper that was propped against a stack of books with his name on it.

_Don't freak._

_We're upstairs in the common area._

_B_

He grinned at the word 'freak'—Angela had obviously told her what to write. Rolling his shoulders to release some of his tension, Booth prepared himself to face Brennan. She had become very adept at reading him and he hoped that she wouldn't pick up that there was something wrong.

Slowly climbing the stairs to the common area, he heard Angela and Brennan talking.

"That one is gorgeous Ange," she said as she turned the page of a large portfolio book. "You should definitely display that one."

"Really? I don't know…I was thinking of," Angela paused as she flipped a few pages back, "those two. I think the colors and the subject matters are more eye-catching."

Brennan nodded. "I like those as well but the other one…I don't know. There's just something about it. It propels and repels at the same time—it's so intriguing."

Angela laughed. "Yeah, I was a little moody when I painted that one."

"So now you're an art reviewer Bones?" Booth teased as he made his presence known. "And I thought your interests stopped at music." To Brennan's amusement, he played a little air guitar to a song that only they heard at that moment.

"I don't think Tibetan throat singers play guitar," Angela joked.

"No but Foreigner does," Brennan offered as she skimmed through the remainder of the portfolio.

"You like Foreigner?" the artist asked with a raised eyebrow. She glanced over at Booth for confirmation to her question.

"And jazz….Bones is a big jazz fan." He grinned at Angela's expression.

"So I've been dragging her to the wrong type of clubs huh?"

"I enjoyed that last club you took me to and the hip hop music," Brennan said, "you know before the whole finding mummified remains and inhaling meth thing."

Angela slowly nodded her head. "Thanks for reminding me why I've not dragged you out of the lab lately," she joked.

"Whatcha two doing up here?" Booth asked. "Trying for yet another new hangout?"

"No, a friend of mine has an art gallery and asked me to display a few of my paintings." Angela handed him one of the portfolio books as he sat down. "It's this weekend and you're invited to come…of course, since Bren is going I just assumed you would be too." She winked at him.

He turned toward Brennan, an inquisitive look on his face. "Why didn't you mention Angela's show?"

"She just gave me all of the details today." She shrugged as she looked over at him. "Besides I thought you might have plans with your son this weekend."

"Bones, your life is in danger…I'm not taking the weekend off and leaving you alone," he replied a little more curtly than he intended. "What the hell is wrong with you that you would even think that?"

Brennan misinterpreted her partner's curtness as anger. "You know if we're going to have an argument, we should leave now." She placed Angela's portfolio on the table and stood. "This way we can start in the car and should be finished by the time we get home."

She quickly walked down the stairs to her office to retrieve her bag and jacket. Booth stared at Angela who was shaking her head at the scene.

"You know, just when I think you two have finally got it together, one of you has to mess it up." She stacked her books, picked them up and stood. "I'm sure it's been a rough day Booth, but you need to dial it back on the 'tude."

He sighed as he placed his head in his hands. So much for the idea of not alerting her that something is wrong, he thought.

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The pair walked to the parking garage in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. He followed her around to the passenger's side and opened the door for her. As she moved past him to enter the vehicle, Booth touched her arm.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I…it's been a long day…I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Her features relaxed as she studied him. "It's okay. I reacted to your tone instead of questioning why you even had a tone." Brennan watched as his gaze dropped to the pavement. "Is everything okay?"

"Let's go home and get some rest Bones. Remember? Long day." He ushered her into her seat and closed the door. As he walked around the back of the vehicle, he wondered how long he would be able to keep the information about Andrews to himself.

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Booth sighed as he followed Brennan into the apartment and switched on the light. He removed his jacket and tie, tossing both on the back of the chair at her desk. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt as he watched her walk into the kitchen. With a smile on her face, Brennan approached him with two beers in her hand.

"Long day…remember?" she replied at his confused expression.

"Should you be…?"

"I've not taken any medication today for any affliction…well other than an ibuprofen for a headache a few hours ago."

Taking the beer from her hand, Booth smiled. "Cheers then," he said as he clinked their bottles together. He took a few sips and then placed the bottle on the counter. "I think I'll get changed for bed."

She watched as he sauntered down the hall. Sipping her beer, Brennan contemplated Booth's mood. She surmised that he was still smarting over her request to drop the line of questioning about El Salvador. _That man wants **all** of you_, Angela's words echoed in her head.

Biting her lower lip, Brennan put her beer on the counter next to Booth's and made her way down the hall. She found him standing in front of her dresser with the drawer she had assigned to him open. He had removed his gun and holster along with his badge and placed the items on her nightstand. His shoes and socks were sitting on the floor at the end of the bed.

Booth glanced up as he removed a well worn FBI academy tee shirt from the drawer. He noticed her apprehensive stance and the way she was biting her bottom lip. "Bones, what's wrong?"

"I…" She stopped, unsure how to approach the subject of her captivity. She had only told Angela part of what happened. Brennan had never intended to tell _anyone_—she had made it through the incident, alive and intact. Why bother people with worrisome anecdotes when the ultimate outcome was positive?

But now, staring at Booth, she felt a sudden need for him to know—if he did indeed want all of her, then this was another significant part he needed to know. It was yet another incident in her life that had shaped her opinions, her belief system and her identity. She suddenly realized that it wasn't a worrisome anecdote—it was a significant fact of her existence.

He tossed the shirt on the plush chair behind Brennan and moved toward her, placing his hands on her arms. "Temperance?"

"El Salvador," she said softly. "A few years ago on my last trip I was identifying a set of remains…"

"You don't have to do this," he said. She raised her hand and placed a finger to his lips.

"A soldier ordered me to stop my examination and I refused. He and a few other soldiers put a bag over my head and dragged me away. They put me in a cell of sorts—there were no windows; no one else was with me. For three days the soldier who ordered me to stop would come in and tell me how he had no problem with the idea of killing me and throwing my body in that well with all of those unidentified people. When the mental torture was no longer enough…" she stopped, shuddering at the memory of the beating she had incurred.

"When that wasn't enough of a thrill for him anymore," she continued, "he decided that a good beating would put me in my place. Those are the injuries that Dr. Seats was referring to on my x-rays."

She removed her finger from his lips and watched a maelstrom of emotions cloud his eyes. Brennan could see the anger for what had happened to her; the sadness that she had endured pain; and the relief that she had survived. "I only told Angela part of that story…after she confronted me about beating up Ortez. She convinced me that I should tell you…since you asked."

Booth leaned in close to her face. "Thank you for telling me," he said softly before he gently placed his lips on her.

As he started to lean back, he felt her tug on his shirt bringing his lips back to hers. She moved her lips over his, softly at first. She parted her lips and lightly ran her tongue across his lips. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and was pleasantly surprised by her reciprocating the action.

Brennan's hands moved over the fabric of his shirt and she began to undo each button as they continued their kiss. After reaching the last button, she parted the shirt and placed her hands on his bare skin, running her fingers up his toned abdomen before placing her palms on his chest. She smiled against his mouth as he placed a small kiss to her lips.

"What?" he whispered.

"No undershirt today?" she questioned softly as she chuckled.

"What're you complaining about? It's just one less piece of clothing you have to rip off of me," he teased.

She captured his lips with hers again as she slid her hands from his chest to his shoulders and pushed the shirt from his torso. She moved her mouth from his and placed a small kiss on his chin before traveling to his neck and then down to his chest.

Booth took a deep breath at the feel of Brennan's lips on his body. His dreams of this moment were no match for the real thing. She slowly worked her way back up his torso to his neck as she began unbuckling his belt. He placed his hands on hers and moved them back to his chest. "Not yet," he whispered.

Leaning in, he took control the next kiss, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, leaving her breathless. He moved his mouth from hers and began placing small kisses on her cheek, working his way to her neck. He heard her moan slightly as he kissed one area of her neck and he filed away that tidbit of information. Booth pulled away from her slightly and stared into her eyes as he began to slowly unbutton her blouse. He searched her eyes and her features for any signs that she wanted him to stop. He proceeded with his quest upon seeing the desire in her eyes.

He slipped the blouse off of her form and leaned in, placing a kiss on her collarbone. Using his tongue and lips, he made his way to her breasts, covered by a white lacy bra. His tongue traced the top of the exposed mound of flesh, teasing her. Brennan ran her hands through his thick hair, attempting to direct his actions.

Pulling away from her, Booth took her by her hand and led her to the bed, gently pushing her backward. As he climbed onto the bed to lie beside her, he placed a trail of kisses on her taut stomach. He stopped when he spied the nasty black and blue marks on her right side.

"Are you sure you're…"

She reached out to him, cupping the side of his face in her hand. "Yes," she whispered.

He leaned in, shifting his weight to his right side, and kissed her again. Brennan's left hand trailed up and down his back as his left hand caressed her stomach. His hand slowly inched upward, his touch burning her skin in the most pleasurable way. His hand came to rest on her breast, kneading the flesh through the fabric that was still covering it. His fingers nimbly followed a path up her shoulder and tugged the strap away from her flesh. Rolling her body on her left side toward his, Booth unclasped her bra and removed the article of clothing in one fell swoop.

Pushing her back on the bed, he once again took control of the kiss as his hand traveled to her now bare breast. She gasped slightly at his touch as he flicked a thumb over her nipple. Her hips began to move against him as a subconscious response to his ministrations. Now it was his turn to smile. Shifting his attention from her mouth, his lips traveled down her body once again until he reached her breasts. He teased her by lightly running his tongue around each mound of flesh before taking the nipple into his mouth. She groaned at his actions, running her hands through his hair and down his neck while writhing beneath him.

He reached for button at the top of her blue jeans, undoing it and then slowly lowered the zipper. She wriggled beneath his touch, attempting to help him remove the offending material. She ran her hand down his chest to the top of his pants, slipping it under the material. He gasped as he felt her hand on him and then groaned, moving against the silky feel of her hand.

Unbuckling his belt, Booth undid his pants allowing his desire for her to be exposed. Moving off the bed for a moment, he removed his pants and boxers and then finished the task of removing Brennan's blue jeans and shoes. He quickly reclaimed his spot next to her, taking in her now naked form. He watched as her eyes traveled down his naked body with an appreciative expression on her face.

"You're beautiful," he whispered before kissing her.

He repositioned himself over the top of her and Brennan moved her legs to accommodate him. He continued to kiss her and caress her body as she continued to writhe beneath him. Booth had waited for this moment with her for so long, he didn't want it to end just yet.

"Booth, please," she pleaded breathlessly as she brought her hips up toward his body again.

Shifting his weight slightly, he brought his face close to hers and kissed her as he slowly entered her. She moaned into his mouth at the sensation of him inside her.

"Oh god, Temperance," he whispered at the feel of her heat surrounding him. He began to slowly thrust, his hips gyrating against hers and he felt her move her hips in rhythm to his as her legs encircled his body.

They stared into each others eyes as their bodies became one. Brennan used her legs to push him further inside her and Booth closed his eyes at the sensation. His pace became faster and her hips matched his rhythm. They moved in unison for several minutes, their breathing becoming erratic and their hearts racing.

"Seeley," she breathed into his ear as she began to reach her climax.

The sound of his name and the feel of her constricting around him pushed Booth over the edge as he pressed himself deep into her, thrusting furiously. "Temperance," he called out before collapsing on top of her.

They laid motionless for a moment, each trying to catch their breath. She ran her fingers up his back, leaving a trail of goose bumps on his skin as she placed a kiss to his temple. "I love you Seeley," she said softly.

He smiled as he raised his head and brought his lips to hers. "I love you too Temperance." Who knew the second time that she said it would be as sweet as the first?

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Booth watched as she slept, snuggled as close as she could get to his chest. He gently ran his fingers along the line of her jaw and then through her thick long hair. Their relationship had changed so drastically in the past year. Initially he thought she was just a cold, scientific, albeit beautiful, squint. Even after their first meeting, where she had coolly informed him that she would not be at the FBI's beck and call, Booth had thought about her—thought about what she looked like naked; thought about what would melt the icy exterior of one Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Then they had really begun to work together as partners. He came to respect what she did at the lab and how she did it. Then somewhere along the way they had become friends. He shared things with her…even when she didn't reciprocate fully. At one point, Booth realized that he had become smitten with the anthropologist but he knew that she was oblivious to the change in his demeanor. Angela, on the other hand, had not been.

As he stared at his new lover, Booth never would have imagined the depth of emotion he felt for this one woman. She was as maddening as she was lovable. In every way she was the opposite of who he was. Hell, she was the opposite of the type of woman he was used to dating. Vapid, leggy blondes that he could, most times, charm with just a smile or a touch—that was they type he usually fell for. And while he had loved Rebecca and enjoyed Tessa, Booth felt something much deeper for the woman lying in his arms. She was the only other person on the planet, besides his little boy, that he would die for.

He felt her stir beside him and he pulled the sheet further up her body to cover her naked form. He smiled as he began to drift off to sleep—she looked as beautiful naked as he had imagined.

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The sound of the door to the apartment closing startled Booth from his slumber. He looked over and saw that Brennan was still beside of him although she had shifted during the night and now had her back to him. He quickly moved off the bed and found his pants, pulling them on. He reached over and removed his gun from its holster. Turning back to the bed, he shook Brennan. She slapped his hand away and nestled herself further under the sheets.

"Bones," he said in a hushed tone as he shook her again. "There's someone in the apartment."

Brennan's eyes flew open as his words registered with her. Booth threw his FBI tee shirt that had been forgotten in the midst of their lovemaking to her. She pulled the shirt over her head and quickly located her blue jeans, pulling them on as well.

Booth trained his gun at the bedroom door and motioned for her to stay behind him. Brennan reached out and grabbed the baseball bat she kept beside the dresser, bringing it up to her shoulder. He stared at her for a moment before he put his hand on the door knob. "Just stay away from the television with that thing," he ordered.

She rolled her eyes as he slowly opened the door. The apartment was still dark and Booth couldn't make out anyone standing around the dining room table. He gradually moved forward with Brennan close behind, his gun aimed and ready to take out any potential threat.

As they neared the end of the hallway, Booth saw a dark figure in the living room. He motioned for Brennan to stay where she was as he took another step.

"Don't move," Booth ordered. "I'm a federal agent and I have a gun trained on you—you so much as flinch and your brains will be splattered on the walls. Now slowly put your hands up, then place your hands behind your head and lace your fingers together." He watched as the figure stood and did as he ordered.

"Bones, hit the lights." Light flooded through the living room area of the apartment, momentarily blinding Brennan and Booth. "Now slowly turn around…remember, brains on wall otherwise."

The man before them turned around and smiled.

"Russ?" They said in unison.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Brennan demanded as Booth lowered his gun.

"I don't know sis…I heard about an explosion at the Jeffersonian and I thought I would do that big brother thing of checking up on you." He glanced over at Booth. "Can I put my hands down now?"

Running a hand over his tired face, Booth sighed. "Of course you can Russ."

"What time is it?" Brennan asked, stifling a yawn.

"It's three in the morning…and a little early for baseball season," he joked.

"I'm going back to bed before I try to hit a touchdown using your head," she said as she glared at her brother.

"Home run," Booth and Russ corrected her.

"Whatever," she mumbled.

Booth turned back to Russ after watching her walk down the hall and found the other man smirking at him. "I'm guessing that was your shirt….and that I interrupted something…"

He held his gun up for Russ to see. "I'm not in the mood right now Russ."

Russ put his hands back up in the air. "Sorry."

He watched as Booth started toward the hallway. "Yeah, like the two of you ending up in bed together is a big surprise," he muttered.

**Author's notes: Okay, that was the first time I've ever written a scene like that…I'm not sure if it was any good or not, so leave a review and let me know.**


	27. Chapter 27

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 27**

**Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I still don't own them! Drat!**

**Author's notes: Thanks to everyone for reading and of course special thanks to all of you who continue to review each chapter. I apologize for the delay in updating but writer's block and a horrible time at work hindered my "creative process". **

**To BonesDBchippie—Yep, that stock pile of Advil came in handy!**

**To Bella-mi-amore—The truffles are always appreciated whether they are expensive or not. (LOL)**

**To elliot02uk (my dearest Jean B.)—I'm sorry I put you through the arduous task of reading the last chapter twice. It must have been hell on you. (wink) **

**To Teenabird—I don't know how talented or smart I am but I do appreciate your nice comments.**

**And to everyone else who took the time to review the last chapter—A very special thank you for your encouragement and nice comments. I was nervous about posting the last chapter with that scene but after reading over it several times I decided that it wasn't too bad.**

**So it's that time again. Please read, enjoy and review.**

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Russ sat at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee and absorbing the scene of domesticity that was playing out in front of him. His lips twitched into a smirk at the sight of Temperance and Booth's choreographed dance of familiarity as they moved about the kitchen. He watched as his sister spooned three full tablespoons of sugar into a coffee mug and handed to the special agent. Booth, in turn, handed her a half of a bagel that he had lightly covered with cream cheese.

"Thanks," Brennan mumbled as she continued to peruse the newspaper lying on top of the counter.

Booth's eyes skimmed the front page of the paper as he sipped his coffee. The massive headline about the murder of Agent Charles Andrews and his informant was difficult to miss. Much to his dismay, he noticed Brennan's brow furrow as she quickly read through the article.

"Andrews," she muttered to herself as though trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.

"Ahem," Russ said as he cleared his throat. "Would anyone like to share the events surrounding the bombing incident at the Jeffersonian? 'Cause from the look of my sister's forehead, I'm pretty sure you two were involved."

Brennan's gaze strayed from the paper, her concentration broken by her brother's inquiry. "My car was involved…we just happened to be in the parking garage when it exploded."

The color drained from Russ' face as he turned his head in Booth's direction. "And you didn't think that merited a phone call?"

"If your sister wanted you to know, then she would have told you," he responded softly. The look on the agent's face revealed to Russ that Booth understood his concern and agitation.

After placing her empty coffee mug in the sink, Brennan turned back to her brother and sighed. "It wasn't that serious Russ…"

"Not that serious? Tempe, you look like someone beat the hell out of you. Someone tried to kill you…."

"But they didn't succeed," she replied in a frustrated tone.

"But they could have! God, how can you be so calm about this?" Russ ran his right hand through his light brown hair. "I mean you're acting as though you have your life threatened on a regular basis."

"Not a regular basis, no." She walked over to her desk and grabbed her bag and jacket. "Come on Booth, I don't want to be late."

Putting the remainder of his bagel in his mouth, Booth quickly rinsed off the plate, placing it in the sink. He turned and motioned for Russ to follow him. "Grab your coat, you're coming with us."

"Why?" The siblings asked at the same time.

"Well let's see, there are lots of reasons. The first reason is because I said so…" Booth grabbed Russ' jacket and threw it to him. "The second reason is that it's apparently 'Brennan hunting season' so as long as you're in town, you and your sister are under my protection. Let's go."

Brennan rolled her eyes as she slipped on her jacket. "When he gets like this it's best not to argue with him," she told her brother as she walked past Booth to the front door.

"And yet she does every time," Booth muttered.

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The ride to the Jeffersonian was quiet with Russ sitting in the back seat sulking and Brennan sitting in her usual seat, contemplating where she had heard Andrews' name before.

Booth pulled into Brennan's parking space and shifted the vehicle into park. He glanced up at the rearview mirror and caught Russ' reaction to the charred portions of the parking garage.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. Russ realized that the garage had been cleared of the debris and the structure had been stabilized but the appearance still reminded him of a war zone.

The trio quickly climbed out of the SUV and Brennan led the way to the entrance of the lab. "I'll be in my office," she said over her shoulder.

"Let's get you a visitor's pass." Booth pulled Russ to the security station outside of the lab.

"You know, I don't understand why I couldn't just stay at Tempe's place and watch television all day."

"This will be much better okay." He pushed a piece of paper on the counter in front of Russ. "You'll need to sign this remember?"

After scribbling his signature on the paper, Russ sighed. "I really don't want to hang around the lab and all of those…bones…and dead people. I mean, I know that Tempe loves her job but it's a little…"

"Creepy?" Booth offered.

"Yeah, creepy."

"Look, there's more to this place than the lab area. They've got a really great museum and some really interesting exhibits….and you could care less couldn't you?"

Russ smiled as he clipped the visitor's badge to his shirt. "Unless they have a classic car exhibit, then yeah I could care less."

The two men began to move toward the lab area. "Ah man, I saw the most amazing cherry red Mustang…" Booth said with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"What year?"

"1968. It was a beauty. This kid put a lot of hard work into it."

"Sounds sweet."

Booth nodded his head and sighed. "It was…until his girlfriend took a kayak paddle to it."

Russ grimaced at the thought. "Oh man, that poor innocent car."

"Oh my god, Russ!" Angela walked over to him quickly and hugged him. "When did you get in?"

He smiled as she released him and stepped back. "Hey Angela. I got in last night…well, technically early this morning."

Booth glanced past the artist and Russ into Brennan's office where she was pacing in front of her desk. Checking his watch he decided he need to head over to the Hoover building and speak with Cullen. "Well I've got to run. Ange, would you mind taking care of Russ today…he's not real keen on the idea of playing around dead bodies all day."

"Sure thing."

Booth moved to leave the lab area but was stopped by Brennan who came charging out of her office straight for him. "Booth!"

"Oh crap," he mumbled as he realized that she had managed to connect the dead Agent Andrews to her parents' case.

"Did you know about this?" she asked as she thrust the newspaper in his face.

"Bones, we can discuss this later…"

"No we're going to discuss it right now!" Brennan's loud angry tone carried through the lab, causing several employees to turn their attention in her direction.

Booth grabbed her left arm and pulled her into her office, slamming the door behind them. Invading her personal space, Booth stepped forward bringing his face precariously close to hers. "Temperance I cannot discuss this with you right now."

Placing her hands on her hips, Brennan didn't back down but she did lower her voice. "A simple yes or no Booth—did you know about Agent Andrews' death last night?"

"Yes," he answered through gritted teeth.

"And this is the same Agent Andrews who was investigating my parents when they worked for the syndicate?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to explain why you didn't feel compelled to share this information with me last night?" Anger flashed through her blue eyes as she waited for his response.

He sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I wanted to tell you everything Temperance but…"

"But what? You were afraid I wouldn't have fallen into bed and had sex with you if I had known about this?"

Booth's eyes grew dark with anger at her accusation and he leaned in even closer. "I know you're angry with me right now and you're lashing out…so I'm gonna let that last comment go. I can't discuss Andrews' murder with you because Cullen informed me that he would pull me off of your parents' case if I did. It killed me to have to face you and not tell you about it whether you believe that or not."

He pulled away from her and started walking toward her office door. As he placed his hand on the door handle, Booth turned back to her. "And we didn't just have sex last night Temperance…we made love. When I told you that I loved you I meant it. Again, whether you believe that or not is up to you."

The moment she heard her office door close Brennan wished she could take back the last two minutes. She moved to her desk and slowly sat down in her chair. Her anger at Booth, and what she had perceived as his betrayal by an omission of pertinent information, slowly dissipated. She knew that if he had been ordered not to share anything about a case, then he would follow those orders. She understood that he had no choice in the matter. After all, how many times had she gone on assignments for the NSA or Homeland Security and she had been unable to share any information on those cases?

Brennan grew nauseas as she recalled the hurt and anger in Booth's eyes when she threw the subject of them in bed together in his face. He had been right—she had lashed out at him and she had used something that she innately knew would hurt him.

"_When I told you that I loved you I meant it." _Her heart seized as she realized she had let him walk out the door possibly believing that she thought he had lied to her about that. "I meant it too Seeley," she whispered as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

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Angela and Russ watched as Brennan charged out of her office at the special agent, who seemed somewhat prepared for the attack. The loud disturbance between the couple brought Hodgins and Zach to Angela's location.

"Hey Russ, good to see you again," the entomologist smiled and slapped the other man on the shoulder. "What's going on with those two this morning?"

Angela shrugged as she watched her best friend shove a newspaper in Booth's face. "I don't know but she's really pissed off."

"No she's only mildly irritated right now," Zach corrected as he stood beside Russ and watched the scene unfold. "When she's really mad, Dr. Brennan's eyes become this intense aqua and her nostrils flare slightly…"

Russ cast a confused look in Angela and Hodgins' direction.

"Yeah, he's hot for teacher," Hodgins confirmed as he chuckled while Russ shook his head.

The slamming of Brennan's office door drew their attention away from Zach's observations. They all stared as Booth and Brennan stood mere inches apart from each other arguing.

"It's like watching a porno when those two fight," Hodgins said as he sat down on the steps leading to the platform.

"Oh come on, that's my sister…" Russ made a face to show his disgust with the image Hodgins had created.

"Unfortunately I have to agree with Jack," Angela said as she took a seat beside the curly haired doctor. "You know, as much as I would love for those two to just fall into bed and have at it…"

"Seriously, which part of 'that's my sister' didn't either of you understand?"

"All I'm saying is their arguments would not be nearly as intense if they would just sleep together." Angela leaned forward as she saw Brennan place her hands on her hips.

"Okay, now she's mad," Zach informed the others.

Russ sighed as he watched his sister continue her argument with her boyfriend. "I don't think sleeping together is going to hinder the intensity of their arguments."

Raising one eyebrow, Angela looked up at Russ. "You know something…don't you?"

"Okay let me rephrase—I _know_ that sleeping together is not going to hinder the intensity of their arguments."

"Dude, did you walk in on them?" Hodgins laughed as Russ' face contorted into one of disgust.

"No…I'm pretty sure it was after."

Angela stood up, determined to gather all of the facts before talking with her best friend. "Why would you say that?"

"She was wearing one of his shirts…"

The artist sighed and sat back down. "That doesn't mean anything."

"And they both had, um, 'sex hair'." Russ attempted to shrug off the discomfort of discussing his sister in this manner. Hell the last time Russ had seen or spoken to Temperance, she had been an awkward fifteen year old who never spoke to anyone, especially boys. His sister had always been shy around members of the opposite sex, although from the scene in her office at the moment, no one would have ever guessed it.

Angela's dark eyes lit up and a smile slowly spread across her face. "That is one lucky woman…."

"Wait, what's 'sex hair'?" Zach glanced over the others with a look of pure confusion on his face.

"Is he for real?" Russ questioned.

"We keep waiting for Geppeto to turn him into a real boy," Hodgins replied causing Angela to laugh.

The group grew quiet as they watched Booth stalk out of Brennan's office and exit the lab.

"Uh-oh," Angela said. "I think one of them just screwed up again." As she watched her best friend slowly lower herself into her chair behind her desk, Angela knew that Brennan was the culprit this time.

**Author's notes: I apologize for the short chapter but it took forever for me to get this much written! Stupid writer's block….I think I'll watch several episodes of BONES tonight. Maybe that will help.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 28**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the show BONES…honestly.**

**Author's notes: Thanks to everyone for reading and special thanks to all of you who continue to take the time to review. My writer's block is unfortunately still in effect…I just can't seem to shake it! However, I decided to sit down and put forth the effort to conjure up a halfway decent chapter. (crosses fingers) Hopefully I succeeded.**

**And to elliot02uk (dear, dear Jean B.)—Please don't worry. I will hopefully find my muse again soon. By the way, brilliant alliteration in your last review. (wink)**

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The cursor blinking on the computer screen mocked her. Brennan sat at her desk with her fingers on her keyboard staring at the blank screen waiting for the words to appear. Thirty minutes had passed since she had entered her office after overseeing Zach's initial examination of a set of remains that had been pulled from "limbo". All she had to do was write a quick summary of her actions on the case, confirming her assistant's findings and essentially grade his work.

However, Brennan's mind was not consumed with work for once. Her thoughts ran rampant, shifting between how she had hurt Booth and how the death of Agent Andrews' factored into her parents' case.

At the moment thoughts of Seeley Booth were weighing heavily on her. The anger and hurt in his dark eyes as he had stared her down before walking out the door was haunting her, twisting her stomach into knots. She had tried to call him shortly after he left the lab but Booth apparently did not want to talk to her at that moment. It was probably for the best, as Brennan had no clue as to what she would have said to him. The word 'sorry' was not going to cover the chasm she had created with her words this time.

Angela stood in the doorway to her friend's office, leaning against the door jamb, watching Brennan stare at the monitor with her hands frozen to the keyboard. She had waited for Brennan to come to her to discuss what had happened with Booth but of course the anthropologist had simply thrust her personal life, and feelings, aside and thrown herself into work. Three and a half hours later it appeared that she could no longer suppress the anguish she was feeling over her argument with Booth.

Sensing that Brennan was teetering on the edge of opening up, Angela decided to take the opportunity to visit her friend's office.

"Sweetie?" she said as she knocked lightly on the door.

Startled, Brennan quickly swiveled her chair toward the door. "Are you through with the facial reconstruction for Zach's 'John Doe'?"

Angela sighed. Okay, she would wade through work-related topics until she could get to the personal ones. "Yeah, I finished that about an hour ago. It didn't take long after you approved the final tissue depth markers for Zach."

Brennan nodded, turning back to the monitor. "Good. Is Hodgins still playing tour guide for my brother?"

Taking a seat across from her friend, Angela smiled. "Yes, Jack got really excited about showing Russ the entomology exhibit. Needless to say your brother was less than thrilled at the idea."

"Well that's what he gets for showing up at my apartment without warning at three in the morning," Brennan replied as she frowned at the still blank screen.

"Russ may be bored out of his mind but at least he's safe. When I spoke to Booth a little while ago, he gave strict orders that neither one of you was to leave Jeffersonian without him."

Her frown deepened at the mention of Booth's name. Brennan slowly removed her hands from the keyboard and turned to face Angela, staring at her with sad blue eyes. "When did you speak to Booth?"

"About an hour ago. He called to check on everyone and then barked those orders at me as though I was a new Army recruit." She watched as Brennan processed the information, the anguish in her features becoming more and more evident. "Sweetie, what happened between you two this morning? I've seen Booth mad before but he was….I don't even think there's a word to describe the look on his face as he left the lab."

"I…I said something…" Brennan's words caught in her throat. Booth wouldn't answer his phone when _she_ had called but he had phoned Angela and spoken with her. The first real meaningful relationship she had ever had was over before it had started—and she had no one to blame but herself. She certainly couldn't blame Booth. He had been more than patient with her, waiting for her to finally recognize what he had apparently known for a while. She had found herself opening up to him, allowing him past the barriers that had been so carefully constructed all those years ago. Then in that one moment of anger and righteous indignation, she had managed to ruin "them".

"It's over," she whispered, feeling a familiar aching sense of loss wash over her.

"Sweetie," Angela said as she leaned forward, covering Brennan's hands with her own, "you two had a fight…not exactly an uncommon occurrence, remember?"

"He didn't answer his phone when I called him," she explained in a hushed tone.

"He was pissed off sweetie," Angela replied. "He needs time to cool down, collect himself and then you two can discuss what happened. Nothing is 'over' Bren. Booth's not the type of guy who does a 'wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am' and then walks away."

"I don't know what that means."

Smiling slightly, Angela squeezed Brennan's hands. "It means that you and Booth did not just fall into bed and make wild passionate love for him to simply walk away from you. He would never do that."

"How did you…" Brennan's blue eyes grew wide.

"Well, Russ sort of figured it out and then…"

Brennan moved her right hand away from Angela's grasp and held it up in the air. "Stop…I don't even want to know."

"The wild passionate love part was purely mine," Angela continued as her smile grew wider. "I mean, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong…."

Leaning back in her chair, Brennan eyed her friend warily as she sighed. "You're not wrong," she said quietly as the memory of Booth's hands and mouth on her swept through her mind. His breathless confession of love echoed in her head, tugging at her heart.

"Brennan, do you want to talk about what happened this morning? I mean, if you don't that's fine…but I'm more than willing to listen." She watched as her friend chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating whether or not she wanted to share her version of the incident.

Brennan leaned forward slightly, picked up a newspaper that was lying on top of her desk and tossed it to Angela.

"What am I looking for?" the artist asked as her dark eyes skimmed the front page.

"The murder of a Chicago field agent—Agent Charles Andrews. He was one of the original agents who oversaw the case on my parents when they worked for the syndicate."

"And you think his murder is somehow connected to your search for your father?"

Brennan nodded, pursing her lips together. "Booth admitted that he knew about Andrews' death last night but Cullen told him he couldn't share any information with me or he would pull him from the case." She paused as she leaned back in her chair again, closing her eyes. "I accused Booth of not telling me about this so that it wouldn't interfere with us having sex."

"Oh Bren, you didn't…." She watched as Brennan closed her eyes, trying to contain her feelings over the incident.

"I did," she replied simply. "I knew it would hurt him…and it did. And now, I don't know how to repair the damage."

"You two have always been like an old married couple…going straight for the jugular sometimes," Angela said as she shook her head. "As I said before, sweetie, give him a chance to cool down and then go apologize….beg for forgiveness, even."

Brennan's eyes slowly opened. "Beg? For forgiveness? Angela, I rarely even apologize and you're suggesting I beg for forgiveness…"

Angela chuckled at her friend. "Bren, relationships are all about give and take….and make up sex. Just imagine the make up sex for this argument…."

"You won't be getting any details Ange," she said as she rolled her eyes. For the first time since her argument with Booth, Brennan felt a small sense of relief. Maybe Angela was right and she and Booth could work through the fallout of her earlier accusations. She certainly hoped so because the dull ache that had resided in her chest for most of the day was suffocating her.

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Booth paced his office frantically, willing the feeling to break something with his bare hands to go away. Did she really see their night together as just sex? Had he set himself up to be another man who ended up in her bed for recreational purposes? Riddled with doubt, he picked up a coffee mug that was sitting on his desk and threw it at the wall, causing it to shatter.

Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the fragmented pieces of the coffee mug lying on the carpet. "She said she loved me," he muttered. Brennan was not the type of person who said those three words easily. Booth moved to the area behind his desk and lowered himself into his chair. As he stared at the spot on the wall where the coffee mug had landed, the agent contemplated his new relationship. He had known that if he had ever been lucky enough to get through to Brennan, a romantic relationship would not be easy. Why should it be? Their working relationship initially centered on both of their antagonistic natures….and the overwhelming need to be right and have the last word.

He leaned back in his chair, allowing the memory of their gentle night of passion to wash over him. No, it wasn't just sex and she knew it, Booth quietly decided. He knew that there had been a chance that she would run from her feelings about him—about the new aspect of their relationship. While Temperance rarely exposed her feelings, Booth knew that when she felt something, she felt it deeply and wholeheartedly. It would have to be difficult to reconcile the sensation of such strong emotions when one was not prone to displaying any emotion.

A brief moment of guilt flitted through his gut as he remembered the number to her office appearing on the caller id of his cell phone as he was driving to work. The amount of anger he had felt after leaving the lab had been transferred to the streets of DC and the other motorists on the road. He had tossed the phone into the passenger's seat, deciding that it was in the best interest for them both to keep his mouth shut and his anger in check.

"Agent Booth?" Cullen's voice in his doorway startled the agent. The deputy director entered the office and closed the door behind him. As he turned to face Booth his gaze settled on the wall and then on the pieces of the broken mug on the floor. "I know the coffee around here is not that good Booth but…"

"It slipped," the younger man replied.

Cullen eyed the agent carefully, taking in his clenched jaw and tense posture. "Is everything okay with you and Dr. Brennan?"

Cullen was not a stupid man. The sparks between one of his favorite agents and the forensic anthropologist had been immediate. The amount of time the pair spent arguing, sometimes over the most inane things, never ceased to amaze him. The deputy director had sensed the change in their partnership many months ago, especially where Booth was concerned. The man was not conspicuous and definitely wore his heart on his sleeve—the only person who hadn't noticed it was Dr. Brennan.

"Were you able to obtain any information on Agent Andrews' financial records?" Booth asked as he picked up a hacky sack ball and squeezed it in his hand, ignoring his supervisor's question.

Cullen sat down at the small conference table, dropped two folders on top of the smooth surface and motioned for Booth to join him. As he joined Cullen at the table, the senior agent slid the folders across the table to him.

"Agent Andrews was being investigated by his superiors. The investigation began in the 1970s when Andrews was still a rookie. He managed to work his way into the robbery division…with a lot of help from friends of his father." Cullen watched as Booth read through the notes in the first folder. "The upper brass suspected that he was up to something criminal when he showed up with a brand new car one day…paid in full."

"On an FBI agent's salary?" Booth questioned as a frown appeared on his face.

Cullen nodded. "Andrews realized his mistake…learned quickly not to display any new expensive toys that everyone knew he couldn't afford."

"But the damage was done, right?"

"Yes and no. They continued to harbor suspicion about him and his activities outside of the Bureau but they could never link him to any criminals…until last week. Jared Piazza is the newest leader of the syndicate that Dr. Brennan's parents worked for. He inherited his position within the last two years from his father, Sal. Andrews was spotted dining with Jared last week…where an exchange was made."

"Money? Drugs?"

"We don't know what was in the envelope. Open the other folder Booth."

Booth did as he was instructed, allowing his eyes to skim the pages in front of him. "Offshore accounts?"

"Andrews opened several accounts using several different names. He deposited just enough money to avoid certain taxation and detection on each account." Cullen sighed as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of his mouth.

"Is this where the five million dollars went?" Booth flipped through the pages, eagerly scanning the new information.

"The accounts totaled approximately three million dollars…before someone emptied them yesterday."

"And it wasn't Andrews, was it?" Booth's gut twisted as Cullen shook his head. He turned to the last document in the folder and felt his heart drop. "Michael Anthony Xavier….MAX."

"There is no such thing as coincidence Booth. I don't know who killed Andrews and his 'informant' but I certainly hope for Dr. Brennan's sake that it wasn't her father."

Booth nodded as he secretly hoped for the same thing. "Sir, I need to tell her about this. She has every right to know."

Cullen sighed as he observed the determination set in Booth's dark eyes. "Tread carefully on this. The last thing I need is an irate squint breathing down my neck."

"Understood sir. Believe me, I've been there and it's no picnic."

The comment elicited a smile from the deputy director as both men stood. "Stay safe Agent Booth."

He nodded as he watched his superior exit the office. Gathering the folders with the new information, Booth quickly exited the office and made his way to the parking garage.

His thoughts strayed to Brennan, whom he knew would not be happy with the new information that he was going to present to her. Booth sighed as he reached into his pocket for his keys. His anger with Brennan had vanished although a small amount of hurt remained. We'll work through it, he decided with silent resolution. He hadn't come this far to simply let her walk away from him.

With thoughts of Temperance whirling through his mind, Booth didn't notice the presence of another person until a fist connected with his face. He dropped the folders as he staggered to the side, colliding with another body. The next sensation he felt was a kidney punch to his back which brought him to his knees. The person standing behind Booth pulled him into a sitting position by the collar of his jacket.

Booth took the opportunity to reach behind his neck, grab the man's hand and twist his wrist until he heard a loud snap. The man screamed and Booth pulled him forward, flipping him onto the pavement.

The first man watched in amusement as his partner rolled around, cradling his broken wrist, whimpering. "That was impressive Agent Booth."

"You wanna try hitting me again when I'm facing you, asshole?" Booth glared at the man as he wiped away the small amount of blood at the side of his mouth.

"If you'll take the time to listen to me, I won't have to do anything else to you. Tell Temperance Brennan to stop her investigation Agent Booth. This," he said as he pointed to the left side of Booth's face where large bruise was quickly forming, "is just a friendly warning. If I'm sent back to talk to you again….it'll be a little less friendly. And it might involve Temperance."

The threat against the woman he loved sent Booth over the edge. Ignoring the shooting pain in his back, he stood. "You son of a bitch! You lay one finger on her and I'll kill you."

"Such passion for your partner…very touching. Be sure she gets the message, won't you?"

As Booth began to lunge at the man in front of him, he felt an intense, sharp pain in his head as he was struck from behind by a third assailant. Once again he fell to his knees, bringing his right hand to the back of his head. Touching the back of his head, Booth felt a large amount of a sticky wet substance which he knew was his blood.

The first assailant, who was also playing the role of messenger, stepped forward. "It's nothing personal Agent Booth, we're just hired hands."

"I'll kill you," Booth muttered as his vision blurred.

"I'm sure you would if you could," the man replied with a smile. The last thing Booth felt was the man's fist connecting with the left side of his face again before he blacked out.

**Author's notes: I'm not really happy with this chapter but I felt that the only way to work through this insufferable bout of writer's block was to, well, write something. Let me know what you think.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 29**

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I beg, they won't give me any of the characters…especially Booth.**

**Author's notes: Thanks again to all of you who continue to read this story and special thanks as always to those of you who continue to review. I believe my muse has decided to take an extended leave of absence….either that or she's pulling a Hemingway and is passed out in a bar somewhere. I apologize for the delay in updating but between my missing muse, a horrible time at work and injuring myself at work this week, it's been hard to find time to sit down and write. As a side note, bruised ribs…not fun. I think I'm being punished for all of the angst and suffering I put Booth and Brennan through in this story. (wink)**

**Anyway, it's that time again…read, enjoy and review.**

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"That was the most boring exhibit I've ever seen," Russ stated loudly as he and Hodgins entered the lab area. Brennan glanced up from the remains that she and Zach were examining and smiled at her brother's complaint. Angela, who was seated near the examination table, also looked up and smiled.

"Dude, do you realize how invaluable some of those species of insects are in identifying areas where a crime originally occurred?" Hodgins waved his hands around with enthusiasm as he spoke of his chosen profession. "I mean, I have dissected…"

"Dude," Russ replied sarcastically, "do you realize that I don't care?" He rolled his eyes as he waited for Hodgins to swipe his security card so they could enter the platform area.

"If you were lying on one of those tables you would care," the doctor retorted as he swiped his card and the two men ascended the stairs.

"Uh, no I wouldn't. I'd be dead," said Russ.

Hodgins looked at Russ and then at Brennan, whose focus was now solely on the remains, and sighed. "Yeah, now I see the family resemblance."

"I'm guessing the entomology exhibit was a bust." Angela grinned at Hodgins as he sat down at one of the terminals and rolled his chair toward her.

"You know, no one appreciates bugs or slime until they play a pivotal role in solving one of these cases," the curly haired doctor huffed as he crossed his arms.

Angela placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. "We may not appreciate the bugs or slime Jack, but we appreciate you."

Zach glanced up from the remains and frowned. "We do?"

Narrowing his blue eyes at the young assistant, Hodgins uncrossed his arms and snapped the rubber band around his wrist several times. "I will not let Pinocchio get to me," he muttered under his breath.

"Ah, Tempe, could I go sit in your office and not, you know, look at dead bodies?" Russ looked up at the skylights in the lab, attempting to keep down the hotdog and soft drink he'd had for lunch.

As her eyes roamed over the sternum and ribcage of the skeleton, Brennan frowned slightly. "There are artifacts, including pieces of some human remains, in my office Russ."

"Oh jeez," he sighed as he continued to avert his gaze. "Don't you have any normal places I can go and sit…without possibly puking?"

"You remember where my office is?" Angela asked as she laughed softly.

Russ nodded as he quickly made his way to the stairs. "Thanks Angela."

"Wuss," Hodgins whispered. Angela reached over and snapped the rubber band on his wrist without warning, causing him to wince.

"Okay Zach, you can start placing the tissue depth markers on the skull," Brennan announced as she straightened and removed her gloves. She glanced past her assistant and saw Deputy Director Cullen being escorted into the lab by Dr. Goodman.

Brennan felt her heart seize and her hands trembled as the gloves tumbled from her hands to the floor. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the side of the table to steady herself. "Booth," she whispered.

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"I'm not certain of the extent of his injuries Dr. Brennan," Cullen said as he maneuvered the car around traffic. "He was conscious when I arrived in the parking garage and he made me promise to personally escort you home…"

"You're taking me to the hospital," Brennan informed him.

"Dr. Brennan…"

"Either you take me to the hospital now or I'll call a cab from my apartment and go without an escort." She turned her face toward him, blazing blue eyes daring him to tell her otherwise.

Cullen squirmed slightly at the amount of anger in her eyes and at the fact that the anger was presently directed at him. "Hospital it is then."

"Thank you." She turned her attention to the view outside the passenger's window. If Booth had been conscious at the scene and had enough wits about him to still be concerned for her safety then odds were that he was okay. Brennan used that logic to comfort herself and to keep her emotions in check. The thought that Booth could be anything other than okay was heart wrenching and it was not a thought that she wanted to dwell upon.

When Cullen had informed her and her team that Booth had been accosted and injured by at least three assailants, Brennan's first thought was that he could have died thinking that she didn't love him…that their night together had not meant anything to her. The truth was that Seeley Booth meant more and more to her each day. That fact, which was not based in science but pure unadulterated emotion, scared the hell out of her.

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"May I help you?" The rotund nurse from Brennan's previous visits asked as she stared at a pile of paperwork on the desk.

"Yes, we need to see Special Agent Seeley Booth," Brennan responded.

The nurse glanced up and rolled her eyes at the anthropologist. "Oh hell no, not you again!" She looked up at the ceiling, folding her hands together in prayer. "Lord Jesus, what have I done to deserve this?"

Brennan glanced up at the ceiling and then at the nurse. "I'm fairly certain that God and any other religious figures, if they exist, are not present in the ceiling tiles of this hospital."

The deputy director stood back and watched the exchange in amusement.

The nurse glared at Brennan. "_If_ they exist? Child, let me tell you…no, no…unh-uh, no." She grabbed a file and exited the small area, indicating that Brennan and Cullen should follow her. "No, you wanna see that agent of yours, that's fine. Cause God is granting me the serenity not to put up with your bossy, argumentative little ass today."

She stopped outside of Booth's room and pointed to the door. "He's in there. The next time you two decide to make a trip to the emergency room could you please do it on my day off?"

Brennan walked past the nurse and pushed open the door. "Why don't you go ask your ceiling tiles for help with that request?"

As she entered the room, Brennan observed a set of x-rays on the board. She glanced over and saw Booth sitting up in bed, wincing slightly.

"Booth?"

"Bones, what the hell are you doing here? I told Cullen to take you straight home."

The senior agent entered the room and stood near the foot of Booth's bed. "She was rather adamant that I bring her here to see you."

"I should have known," Booth conceded.

Brennan studied his face, fighting the urge to touch him. "Yes, you should have known." She moved past Cullen and examined the x-rays on the board after switching on the light. "Are these yours?"

"I told you not to read my x-rays Bones."

Ignoring the comment, she analyzed the x-rays, allowing Booth's bones to tell her the story of his injuries. "The mandible and zygomatic bones are intact—no fractures. Your parietal shows that you sustained a sharp blow to back of your head on the right side. I'm sure you have a concussion." She frowned as she glanced over the x-ray of his spinal cord. "Did you injure your back?"

Booth sighed as he watched her switch off her emotions and become the analytical scientist—something he knew she did to protect herself from feeling pain. "Kidney punch…nothing that would show up in an x-ray but the doctor wanted to be safe."

Cullen cleared his throat. Sensing the tension in the room, he excused himself. "I think I'll check to see if the rest of Dr. Brennan's team has arrived here."

After his superior exited the room, Booth sighed heavily. "Temperance."

She turned toward him, her eyes expressing the anguish she refused to verbally share.

"Temperance, please come over and sit down."

She nodded and moved toward the side of his bed. Instead of sitting, Brennan stood beside the bed and carefully placed her right hand on Booth's left cheek. She gently stroked her thumb over the bruise forming around his left eye.

Booth's eyes closed at her touch and he reveled in the silky smoothness of her hand against his face.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," she whispered.

Placing his hand over hers, he leaned further into her touch and slowly opened his eyes. "This is not your fault."

"Cullen told me what little information you gave him before the paramedics took you. This happened because of the investigation on my father…"

"Temperance, listen to me. Regardless of whether you wanted to find your father or not, Max Keenan is wanted for questioning by the FBI. That would be the case even if we hadn't obtained all of this new information…"

"Including the involvement of Agent Andrews?"

Booth nodded. "That's the reason I was leaving early…to tell you what I couldn't tell you last night."

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she stared into his dark eyes.

"I told you this is not your fault…"

"But earlier…that was my fault…what I said…"

He frowned slightly as he recalled their exchange in her office. "Did you mean what you said? Was it just sex?"

She leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his. "Absolutely not."

"You do realize that I'm not going to let you run away from this now, right?"

She smiled slightly as she kissed him again. "I'm doing my best to retire my running shoes Seeley. I promise."

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"I still think you should have stayed overnight Booth," Brennan said from the backseat of Cullen's car.

"For the tenth time already, I'm fine. It was a little knock on the head," he replied in an irritable tone.

"A 'little knock on the head' as you put it does not fracture one's parietal bone. You have a concussion Booth. The best course of action would have been to stay in the hospital overnight for observation." She crossed her arms and stared at the back of his head as he sat in the passenger's seat.

"If it was you Bones, would you have stayed?"

"We are not talking about me," she replied.

"Perhaps I should have taken the fifty dollar aspirin that nurse offered me," Cullen muttered as he stopped the car at a red light and rubbed his hand across his forehead.

"You know, I still don't understand why you didn't just shoot them," Brennan said.

"Because Bones, shooting unarmed people is your thing…not mine."

"First of all, the guy that hit you in the head obviously had a weapon of some type. Second, how many times do I need to remind you that that guy was trying to set me on fire? Is that not in the file somewhere?" She leaned forward between the two seats and addressed Cullen. "That should definitely be in the file. That's the whole reason I wasn't convicted on that charge."

Cullen glanced over at his agent. "That was one of the reasons."

"Look Bones I told you—the first guy caught me off guard by punching me in the face. I stumbled into the second guy who punched me in the back. I managed to break the second guy's wrist…"

"Have you alerted…?" Brennan began

"All of the hospitals and clinics in the area? Yes, because it's not my first day on the job Dr. Brennan," Cullen answered. "I seriously should have taken that aspirin."

"The third guy came out of nowhere and struck me from behind when I tried to charge the first guy."

"Did any of them say anything to you?" she asked.

"The first guy was obviously the spokesman. He said something about telling you to stop this investigation….my beating was just a friendly warning. Then he threatened you." Booth stared out the window, swallowing the fear and anger that the assailant's threat against Brennan invoked.

"Booth, if the syndicate is responsible for the bomb that was placed in my car…"

"And they are," he responded forcefully.

"Then why would they send three guys to assault you as a warning? It's fairly obvious that this syndicate doesn't issue warnings." Brennan frowned as a new thought formed in her brain. "We've got a whole new set of players in this game."

Cullen pulled the car into the parking garage, stopping behind Booth's SVU. "I had the bomb squad inspect every inch of your vehicle for any possible explosives. We looked at the surveillance footage to try and obtain a photographic still of your assailants for identification but…"

Booth frowned. "But what?"

"Whoever is responsible for your assault managed to corrupt the surveillance footage. We saw you enter the parking the garage and go into the building when you arrived at work. A few minutes later, the footage blacks out for approximately twenty seconds and then we have looped footage of an empty parking garage." Cullen sighed as he looked over at the couple. "I have extra agents outside of Dr. Brennan's building and at the Jeffersonian. Booth, you report directly to the lab with her until I tell you otherwise. If there are any new cases that need yours and Dr. Brennan's attention, I'll have another agent deliver the files. Understood?"

They both nodded at the senior agent and exited the vehicle. Booth removed his keys from his pockets and was surprised when Brennan grabbed his hand.

"I'm driving us home," she said.

"Home?" He smiled at her.

She returned his smile and pulled him toward the passenger's side of the SUV, opening the door for him. "Did the concussion affect your hearing?"

He leaned in close to her. "You know if Cullen wasn't sitting right there watching us, I would show you just how much this concussion hasn't affected anything…"

He moved past her and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Why do you think I want to go home?" she asked with a straight face as she closed his door.

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"So Andrews had been under scrutiny for most of his career?" Brennan slowed the SUV and turned right. "How did he manage to climb the ranks of the FBI if his integrity was in question?"

"I don't know unless someone in charge of the Chicago field office believes in that whole 'keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer' thing." Booth winced as Brennan hit a pothole in the road.

She glanced over at him and placed her right hand on his arm. "Sorry."

"Both hands on the wheels Bones," he instructed. She rolled her eyes and removed her hand from his arm. "And no eye rolling while you drive. Your eyes should be straight ahead…."

"That's funny coming from a guy who thinks that a yellow light means 'go faster'." She stopped the SUV at the curb outside of her building. "Oh look, I managed to get us here safely…imagine that."

"Sarcasm does not become you Bones," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

Brennan's eyes scanned her neighborhood as she exited the SUV. She now saw every person as a potential threat to her and Booth's safety. Paranoia also doesn't become me, she thought bitterly as she joined Booth on the sidewalk.

"Who do you think sent those three guys Booth?" she asked as they began their journey up the stairs to her apartment.

"I don't know. What I do know is that I owe them a good ass whooping if I ever see them again."

The couple entered the hallway of the second floor and made their way to the apartment. Brennan quickly opened the door so they could go inside. She found herself releasing a long breath as she locked the door behind them.

"You okay Bones?"

She turned to face him and nodded her head. "Yeah, I just…"

"What?"

"Do _you_ think that my father had anything to do with Agent Andrews' death?" She stared at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"I honestly don't know if he did or not Temperance. I wish I could say with absolute certainty that he didn't but…" He moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her.

Burying her face into his shoulder, Brennan sighed. "I wish you could too. The truth is that I don't even know my own father well enough to say whether or not he's capable of something so horrible."

Booth kissed the top of her head and held her for a few more minutes. "I've told you this before…but we're going to find out what happened. We're going to get you the answers that you and Russ need." He glanced around the apartment. "Speaking of Russ…"

She pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him. "He's with Hodgins, Zach and Angela. She thought that we might need time alone to talk…"

"Oh?" He leaned down and kissed her, allowing his hands to caress her back.

"And have massive amounts of make up sex."

Booth's hands stopped moving on her back as he stared at her. "Angela knows?"

"Apparently Russ told her…and the others."

"And you're okay with that?" He studied her for a moment, pleased that she was smiling at him.

"They would have found out sooner or later Booth."

A grin slowly spread across his face as he pulled her closer to him. "Massive amounts of make up sex, huh? At least you'll have a good reason for waking me up every few hours."

"Who says you'll be getting any sleep?" she asked as she pulled out of his embrace and tugged on his hand, pulling him down the hall toward her bedroom.

**Author's notes: Yes, I know that I could have put in a M rated scene here but it could never have compared to some of the scenes I've read in fics by jaed621 or goldpiece so I decided to let you all use your imaginations…and I know they are working overtime right now. **


	30. Chapter 30

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 30**

**Disclaimer: The only way I'll ever own any of the characters would be to kidnap them...okay, not them but Booth. Now how does this tranquilizer gun work again? (wink)**

**Author's notes: Once again thank you to all of you who continue to read this story and a special thanks to those of you who continue to review and leave encouraging comments. **

**To goldpiece—Regardless of whether you receive help with writing your "M" rated scenes or not, your work is always enjoyable to read.**

**To jaed621—I managed to catch up on some of the stories on this site, including yours, and my dear, you could never disappoint with any of your fics! I always appreciate your insight and encouraging words. Thank you.**

**To Howdylynn—I always enjoy a "super-psyched" review! I know you must be enjoying the new season of BONES.**

**And to BonesDBchippie—Your reviews always manage to make me smile. As I've said before, anytime I can elicit laughter from you I feel that I've managed to write a successful chapter. And since you left such encouraging words for an "M" rated scene in your review…well, enjoy!**

**Okay everyone, please read, enjoy and really—feel free to leave a review.**

**And yes, there is an "M" rated scene in this chapter….you have been warned.**

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She felt his eyes on her as she sat at her desk typing yet another report. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she heard him stealthy enter her office in a quiet attempt not to disturb her. He stopped when he spied her smiling at her monitor.

"You know I'm standing right behind you, don't you?"

"Yes. I also know you stood in the doorway watching me for five minutes before you attempted to sneak up on me." Brennan swiveled her chair so that she was facing him. "Didn't the Rangers teach a stealth mode class or something?"

"Funny Bones," Booth said as he leaned down, placing his hands on the arms of her chair and captured her lips with his.

Brennan's hands found their way to his chest and clutched at his dress shirt. Feeling a warm sticky wetness covering her palms, she removed her hands and broke their kiss.

"Booth," she whispered as she stared into his eyes and then dropped her gaze to her hands, covered with blood. Brennan's gaze flitted to Booth's chest and she saw the crimson liquid seeping through the material of his shirt. "Booth."

His eyes traveled down to his chest and he realized the source of her sudden concern. "That's not a good sign."

Brennan gasped as her eyes opened, her breathing labored. After a few moments her panic subsided and she realized that she was lying in her bed next to Booth. He lay on his left side with his face close to her neck and shoulder and his right arm draped across her abdomen.

She listened to him breathing for a moment, allowing his warm breath to tickle her neck. Brennan felt an overwhelming need to touch the man beside her to ensure that he was okay. She placed her left hand on his arm and moved it slowly up toward his shoulder, her fingers taking in his sinewy muscled arm.

"Booth," she whispered as she gently shook him.

"Hmmm?" He shifted slightly but didn't open his eyes.

Brennan's hand moved down to his chest and she gently pushed him until he rolled over on his back. She took the opportunity to examine his chest and then silently admonished herself. _It was just a dream_.

She braced herself with her right arm and traced the bruises on the left side of his face with her left index finger. _Just a dream…he's fine…he's alive_.

Her finger traced the outline of his full lips and then traveled down his chin to his neck, finally coming to rest on his broad chest.

"I ravage you all night and I wake up to find you molesting me," he teased as he slowly opened his eyes. Booth saw the serious look in her blue eyes and sensed that something was amiss. "Hey what's wrong?"

She leaned forward and gently placed her lips on his. "Nothing's wrong," she whispered before kissing him again. Booth moaned as her hand traveled down his chest and slid under the sheet.

"Temperance," he gasped against her mouth as she began to stroke him.

She moved above him and straddled his hips. His hands grasped her hips and he pulled himself into a sitting position. His mouth found hers as his hands journeyed from her hips up to her breasts. His hands kneaded the soft mounds as his thumbs and forefingers gently rolled the nipples. Her head fell back, exposing her neck, as she moaned. Booth kissed and licked his way down her neck to her breasts. Brennan's fingers ran through his hair as he took one nipple into his mouth and then moved to the other. Her left hand traveled down his chest and reached between them to stroke him again. She felt and heard him groan against her breast as she moved her hips and guided him inside her.

Staring into each other's eyes, the couple allowed the sensation of their union to wash over them. Brennan began to slowly move her hips, reveling in the feel of Booth inside her. His brown eyes took in the sight of her as he felt her heat surround him. Booth knew in that moment that he could never have enough of her. She had invaded every part of him—physically and emotionally.

Their breathing became erratic as her pace quickened. Booth helped guide her toward their mutual climax as his grip on her hips tightened. "Oh god yes," he whispered as he felt her constrict around him.

Collapsing against him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. Placing a quick kiss on her shoulder, Booth smiled. "You know Bones, maybe we should argue more often."

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She looked past him at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Three-thirty in the morning and she was wide awake. Propping herself with her right arm, Brennan turned and watched him sleep. A small smile played upon his lips and she wondered about the context of his dreams. Her own nightmare and their last round of lovemaking were keeping her awake.

Brennan had initiated the last bout of physical intimacy as a means to guarantee that Booth was indeed very much alive and still with her. As much as she loathed to admit it—even if it was just to herself—the nightmare had scared her to her very core. Guilt and fear washed over her again in a fresh wave. She had promised him that she would try to stop running from him…from her emotions concerning this new part of their relationship, but she felt herself panicking at times.

Generally the panic occurred when she allowed the thought of something happening to Booth, or the thought of Booth simply leaving her, to enter her genius mind. To Brennan neither one of those thoughts was illogical nor unreasonable. First, Booth had a dangerous unpredictable job where his safety was always on the line. And second, every other man she'd been with had taken their leave when they had finally grown tired of her and her resolve that work came first. Cold, distant, self-centered, uncaring—she'd had those words hurled at her on more than one occasion by ex-lovers during a break-up or fight.

As she continued to stare at her current amour sleeping soundly and peacefully next to her, Brennan felt a twinge of jealousy. She envied his absolute certainty of their relationship…of them. The only thing she knew for certain was that she'd never felt this way about another man before Booth. The idea of losing him hurt Brennan more than she cared to admit.

After placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, Brennan slowly moved to the edge of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She took a quick shower and then reentered the bedroom to dress. She pulled on a pair of old faded jeans and grabbed Booth's dress shirt, inhaling the scent of his cologne as she buttoned it. Smiling, she turned to look at him and shook her head. A year ago, if anyone had proposed the scenario that she currently found herself in, Brennan would have considered them crazy. _Now who's the crazy person?_

She padded down the hallway after quietly closing the bedroom door. Running her fingers through her wet hair, Brennan stepped into the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. She walked with the glass in her hand to her desk and pulled the files on Agent Andrews from her bag. Cullen had given them to her in the car on the way to the hospital.

She switched on the small desk lamp and sat down, opening the first file. The information was general and the investigator had made several indecipherable notes along the margins. As she neared the end of the file Brennan saw several surveillance photos of Andrews and another man. Perusing the information near the end of the file, dated just a few months ago, she saw the name Jared Piazza.

Her eyes returned to the photograph and she noted that Mr. Piazza's polished look did not match the typical stereotype of a mobster. He appeared to be well dressed in the photograph and looked like any other business man. An easy smile crossed his lips as the moment of greeting between the mob boss and the now deceased agent was caught on film—he looked like he was simply embracing an old friend. Dark hair, slight stubble on his face and a lack of gaudy jewelry completed Piazza's appearance. Brennan knew that if she had met him on the street, she would have found him attractive. Now, of course, knowing what he was and what he was capable of, she found him to be less than appealing.

Closing the file, she took a sip of the now lukewarm orange juice and grimaced. She set the glass aside and retrieved the second folder. Her eyes glanced over the financial records of the deceased agent, coming to a stop on a credit for one hundred thousand dollars two days before the bomb had been placed in her car. Brennan's jaw clenched as she recalled what little she could remember of the scene at the parking garage. That's what her life was worth? Booth's life? Not to mention the poor archeologist who _did_ actually lose his life in the explosion.

Brennan rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. The syndicate and Piazza were obviously behind the car bomb but who the hell were the three people that attacked Booth? Her head began to ache as she pondered the possibilities.

She opened her eyes and flipped through a few more pages of Andrews' financial information. The name Michael Anthony Xavier, obviously an anagram for her father's first name—his real name—stood out on the page. Two point seven five million dollars had been transferred from one of Andrews' accounts into another one that Booth had advised could not currently be traced.

Brennan narrowed her eyes as her headache grew worse and she reached over to the lamp, switching it off. Sighing softly, she dropped her head to her desk as a weary feeling overcame her. _I should go back to Booth_, she thought as she closed her eyes, letting sleep take over.

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Angela rubbed her eyes as she sleepily shuffled down the hallway. She entered the kitchen area and yawned.

"I don't know about you but I thought I would have to leave a trail of bread crumbs in order to find the refrigerator in this place," Russ said from his position on a bar stool at the counter.

She chuckled slightly and ran her hand through her dark hair. "Yeah, I know. It took me five tries before I got here. That's the price you pay for living in a mansion, huh?"

"So exactly how rich is 'bug boy' anyway?"

"His family is extremely rich and don't call him 'bug boy'." Angela searched through the cabinets for coffee to place in the overpriced coffee machine sitting on the counter. "Oh thank god!" she exclaimed as she located a container of coffee grounds.

"How long have you and Jack been together?" Russ walked past her to the refrigerator to search for any food items that he might enjoy.

Angela's brow creased in confusion at Russ' question. "What are talking about? Jack and I are friends…good friends."

He grinned at her and shook his head. "Yeah, just like Tempe and Agent Booth were just good friends."

She rolled her eyes as she started the coffee maker. "Jack is an amazing person. He's really smart, funny…"

"Well I can see why you would be upset that I thought you two were dating," he replied dryly. "I just thought…I don't know. I thought the way you two were behaving at the lab and then you stayed here last night…"

"In a separate room," she quickly interjected. "Why should everyone else get to stay in a mansion but not me? Besides I promised your sister that I would personally see to your safety."

"Okay, what about the way you two act around each other at the lab? I was there for all of thirty seconds and I could see it."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Besides I generally don't converse with people until I've had my morning coffee."

"Oh thank god! Coffee!" Jack Hodgins entered the kitchen wearing only a pair of Sponge Bob pajama pants. He scratched at his beard as he looked at Russ and Angela. "You two couldn't find the coffee mugs could you?"

"We could barely find the kitchen," Russ replied cheekily as he watched Angela's eyes rake over Hodgins bare chest. "Right Ange?"

"Uh-uh," she replied, her eyes never leaving Hodgins who walked past her to retrieve several coffee mugs.

"Zach will be over soon. He's not allowed to use the coffee maker in his apartment since he almost burned the garage down a few months ago." He opened the refrigerator and removed a small container of soy milk. "Sweetener?"

Angela just stared at him. "Huh?"

"I know you like a small amount of soy milk in your coffee," he said, "but sometimes you also like some sweetener."

"Oh…not this morning, thank you." She turned to find Russ smiling at her and found herself glaring at him in return.

She wasn't ready to define whatever it was that was occurring between her and Hodgins. A part of her finally understood Brennan's concern of how a relationship in the office would affect work while the other part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and see what would happen. But it was Jack…Hodgins…bug and slime guy extraordinaire.

Hodgins handed her a cup of coffee, taking in her tousled black hair and sleepy eyes. She was decidedly cute in one of his tee shirts from an entomology conference and a pair of his shorts with the draw strings tied as tight as possible to keep the material on her slender frame. "Would, um, you like breakfast?"

"Are you making it or do you have a personal chef?" Russ smiled at the obviously enamored twosome.

"What? No, I like to cook my own meals…or at least order out." He smiled at Angela as she sipped her coffee. "So…is that a yes to breakfast?"

"Hmm…maybe some other time. We've got to get to the lab, remember? Plus I need to decide on a few more paintings for the exhibit tomorrow." She finished the remainder of the warm liquid and placed the mug on the counter. "I'm going to get ready."

"Okay." His bright blue eyes watched her exit the kitchen as he sipped his coffee.

"She's got an exhibit tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah man. Angela is a really talented artist. And smart—she's incredibly smart."

"Uh-huh, I noticed how much you two were appreciating each other's 'intelligence' a few moments ago." Russ smirked as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "By the way, nice touch walking in shirtless to get her attention."

Hodgins shook his head. "Dude, I sleep in the nude. I put on the pants because Angela stayed over…"

Russ quickly placed his mug on the counter and swallowed hard. "Ugh, let's forget about breakfast, okay?"

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Booth groaned slightly as a shooting pain crept up his back where the second assailant's punch landed. He stretched his right arm out and found Brennan's side of the bed empty. His brown eyes flew open at the realization that she was not next to him.

"Bones," he said, his voice gruff with sleep. He was sore and exhausted—she'd kept her word about keeping him up all night. The serious worried expression he'd seen on her face the last time she woke him up came back to him. While she had said that nothing was wrong, Booth knew her well enough to know differently.

Pushing the sheets to the side, he slowly moved from the bed over to the dresser and took a pair of boxers out of the top drawer. He slid the soft material up his legs and hips and then stretched his torso, working the kinks out of back and shoulders.

He opened the bedroom door and made his way down the hall. Booth walked into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw her sleeping at her desk. Tilting his head to one side, he studied her and wondered why she'd fallen asleep there. He quietly approached her and spied the files on Agent Andrews lying on the desk under her right hand. Michael Anthony Xavier's name was highlighted by her right index finger.

"Oh Temperance," he said softly. He reached out and brushed away a few errant strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek. She sighed softly and murmured his name.

She had let him in, allowed him to witness her vulnerability and allowed him access to emotions that she had buried deep long ago but Temperance Brennan was still holding back her feelings and thoughts about her father—her family. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. As he watched her sleep, Booth wondered if he would ever be able to break down all of her walls, especially when she insisted on building new ones.

**Author's notes: Well, don't be afraid to let me know what you think—good, bad or indifferent. I can take it. (grabs a box of Kleenex just in case) I'll try to update again soon since the fog of writer's block has lifted slightly.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 31**

**Disclaimer: Nope, they still don't belong to me, but Christmas is fast approaching…**

**Author's notes: Thanks to all of you who continue to read this small epic and special thanks, as always, to those of you who leave those wonderful words of encouragement. **

**To Tutorwife23—Thank you for your extremely nice lengthy review and welcome to what appears to be the never ending fanfic. (LOL)**

**To BonesDBchippie—Late review or not, you know I always look forward to reading what you thought about the chapter.**

**To Howdylynn—Yes, I kinda got my groove back, minus a muse. Thanks for the support.**

**To jaed621—I only worry because there are so many damn good writers on this site and I really want to do justice to these characters that we've all come to enjoy. Thanks for your kind words and your encouragement.**

**To elliot02uk—I'm glad you're back! Irritation or not (wink) you know that I love to hear from you. Is Booth a member of the split infinitive police? Cause he's the only I'll let issue any warnings…or place me in handcuffs…um, sorry, got off track there. Sorry that Chapter 29 was a disappointment to you but hopefully I'll make it up to you with this one. Truthfully I've just been thrilled when I'm able to sit down and words actually appear on my screen! (LOL)**

**I do apologize for the delay in updating. I'll save you the excuses but I will make a deal with you…if everyone continues to review, I promise to update as soon as possible. Is that a lame deal? Absolutely! **

**So please read, enjoy and press the little button at the bottom of the page!**

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"You know Bones I could've driven us to the lab this morning," Booth huffed as he quickened his pace to keep up with her.

"I was not willing to compromise my safety to satisfy your machismo Booth…"

"I think my machismo was pretty much satisfied last night." He grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her as they fell in step together.

"Don't let Angela hear you say things like that or we'll have our own version of the Spanish Inquisition," Brennan admonished him before continuing her original point. "Besides, with your head injury, you need to take it easy today…you know, hang out in my office…"

"And do what? Read your new manuscript?"

Brennan stopped walking and turned to face him. "Absolutely not. You know I don't allow anyone to read my manuscripts…"

"So you are working on a new one!" He wagged his finger in her face causing her to lean back slightly. "Are Andy and Kathy…you know…"

"Are they what?" Confusion set into her features as she contemplated Booth's question about her fictional characters.

"You know, knockin' boots? Doin' the horizontal rumba?"

Brennan stared at him with a blank expression as she attempted to decipher the slang terms.

Angela rounded the corner with Zach in tow and smiled at the couple. "He's talking about sex sweetie."

"Oh…why didn't you just say that Booth?" She turned and started toward her office again. "I'll never understand why you use such convoluted metaphors and euphemisms."

Quickly turning to follow her, Booth couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "Call it retaliation for all those big squint words you and the others like to throw at me. Now, what's the answer?"

"To what?"

"Andy and Kathy? Will they or won't they in this next book?"

Brennan and Booth entered her office to find Russ sitting on her couch flipping through an anthropology text book. "Booth if you had read the previous book, you would know that they've already had sex…"

"God, it's nine o'clock in the morning," Russ said as he rolled his eyes. "Didn't you two get this out of your systems last night? I mean, that _is_ why I was subjected to staying with Hodgins, whom in case you didn't know, sleeps in the nude."

Booth grimaced as he stared at Brennan's older brother. "Please don't tell me you have first hand knowledge of that."

"If I did, Hodgins would be a very dead man albeit a very rich one."

"Rich?" Brennan inquired as she grabbed her lab coat. "While Jack's salary is substantial, I wouldn't say that he's rich."

"Are you kidding me?" Russ' brown eyes grew wide as he stared at his sister.

"I'm sure that compared to a mechanic's salary Russ, Hodgins _appears_ very rich." Booth glared at him in an attempt to convey that the subject should be dropped immediately.

"Um, okay," Brennan said as she looked at her brother and then Booth. 'I'll be on the platform working on a set of remains. I'm sure you two can find something to occupy your time." Gathering her long hair into a ponytail, she exited the office and ascended the platform area after scanning her card.

Booth grabbed one of the chairs that sat in front of Brennan's desk and turned it to face the couch and the platform area. As he settled into the seat, he took a moment to appreciate the view of Brennan, already in full work mode, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"I'm guessing that Tempe doesn't know about Jack's wealth. Why?" He watched as the agent leaned back and propped his feet on the coffee table.

"Because Hodgins doesn't want her to know that technically, in a roundabout way, he is her boss. His family carries a great deal of weight here at the Jeffersonian." Booth sighed and ran his right hand over his face. "So how are you doing Russ…besides the whole naked Hodgins episode?"

A wry chuckle escaped Russ' lips as he contemplated the question. He leaned forward and placed the text book on the table. "I don't know….I mean, I'm trying to hold it together for Tempe. On the one hand, I'm scared out of my mind for her safety and on the other hand, I'm so pissed off at her I could just…" He shook his head, fear evident in his eyes.

"That pretty much describes life with Temperance," Booth agreed.

"I don't know what I would do if something happened to her Agent Booth." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Booth's dark eyes fell on the object of their conversation. "I know the feeling," he whispered in return. He watched as she moved with ease around the examination table, pointing out certain areas of the remains to Zach. The young man would study the part of the body that Brennan had pointed out and then stare at his mentor with obvious respect and adoration in his eyes at her intelligence and observations.

"Has your sister ever discussed your parents with you? The whole robbery crew syndicate thing and all…"

"We've discussed our old lives in Chicago before they disappeared. And yeah, we've had conversations and arguments about the search for Dad."

"But has she ever discussed her feelings with you?" He hoped deep down inside that Brennan had at least been able to talk to her brother but he knew that she hadn't.

Russ mulled over the question for a few minutes, replaying conversations he'd had with his sister since their reunion. "No, she hasn't," he answered with a sigh. "Not that that really surprises me. Tempe has never been one for letting other people know how she feels about something. Mom, Dad and me—we could always tell when she was upset….now you're the person with that special talent."

The men stared at each other for a moment, each understanding Booth's new role in Temperance's life. He was more than a friend and a partner now.

"Agent Booth…"

"Call me Seeley, Russ."

"Seeley, how bad was the explosion in the garage? Angela and Jack didn't want to talk about it and I think it's rather obvious that Tempe isn't going to discuss it with me."

Anger flashed through the agent's eyes at the memory of Brennan's car exploding. "It was bad," he answered firmly. "But it could have been much worse. Bones and I were lucky that day….one man died."

"Was Tempe the target?"

Booth nodded. "The bomb had been placed in her car. Fortunately I always drive us back and forth to crime scenes and most of the time I take her home."

"You love her don't you?"

"Do you really have to ask that?" Booth smiled.

Russ grinned back at him. "I'm her big brother, that's what I do."

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"What else do you see Zach?" Brennan watched as the young protégé carefully scanned the remains. After a few minutes he shook his head and sighed.

"I'm sorry Dr. Brennan but I don't see any other injuries or anomalies that would aid in effectively determining a possible cause of death." He silently berated himself for failing in front of his mentor.

"Very good Zach, there are no other indicators present that would aid in that determination." She smiled at the look of relief that passed over his youthful face.

"I'll start placing the tissue depth markers for Angela," he replied enthusiastically.

"Oh joy for me," the dark haired artist replied with a chuckle as she ascended the platform.

Taking a seat on one of the stools, Angela rolled her body toward Brennan, who was now seated at one of the terminals. "You have an admirer Bren."

"What?" she questioned absently as she input the data that she and Zach had collected while examining the set of remains that had been taken from limbo.

"Booth's been sitting in your office ogling you since you left him in there with Russ." She sighed as she waved at Booth. "I wish a man would look at me like that."

"Hodgins stares at you all the time," Zach informed her as he concentrated on the skull.

Brennan turned to face her friend, her blue eyes wide. "Ange is there something…"

"What? No…no…nuh-uh. Zach doesn't know what he's talking about." Her glare was lost on the young man who was busy with his current task.

"I believe the lady doth protest too much," Brennan smirked.

Angela rolled her eyes at her friend. "Using my own words against me. That's low, sweetie…I've taught you well. Now what did Booth teach you?"

Narrowing her eyes at her best friend, Brennan sighed. "I believe I told you 'no details'." She turned away from Angela who was now in full pout mode.

"But sweetie, I've waited so long for this union. I predicted this union from day one! I will not be denied the steamy details of…"

"Please stop using the word 'union'. It makes it sound like Booth and I are fighting against the Confederate Army."

Angela laughed. "Most women would have said it reminded them of marriage."

"I prefer the Civil War over that topic," she mumbled.

"Oh Bren, you are one of kind. So, you and Booth are coming to the exhibit tomorrow, right?"

"Of course we are. I wouldn't miss seeing your artwork on display Ange."

"Well there will be no holographic images of dead people but there will be plenty of alcohol and food. By the way, it's very casual…Carly's gallery is more bohemian than ritzy."

"Booth will be happy he can wear blue jeans and his favorite leather jacket." Brennan's typing was interrupted by the squeal Angela emitted beside of her.

Embracing her best friend in a tight hug, Angela smiled. "You two are sooo good together. And it's so cute that you know he has a favorite jacket."

"Angela, do you want to discuss Zach's earlier observations about Hodgins?"

"Uh, no."

"Then let go of me." After being released from Angela's grasp, Brennan turned to look into her office. Her eyes connected with Booth's warm gaze and they both smiled. Angela was right—they were good together. He was good for her and to her. Brennan just hoped that she was as good for and to him in return.

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Russ stood and stretched his stiff muscles. "Aww, how much longer is she gonna work?"

Checking his watch, Booth smiled. "She's only been at it for ten hours and since we're all going to Angela's exhibit tomorrow, she'll put in a few extra hours tonight."

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope."

"And you think you two will be able to maintain a relationship with her putting in these kinds of hours?" Russ asked, incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Forensic anthropology and helping on these FBI cases…those are Bones' passions. It drives her and she's damn good at it." Booth's pride was more than obvious.

"I just ask because I only work forty hours a week and it's hard to maintain my relationship with my girlfriend. You know, you come home, you're tired, the kids are crawling all over you…it doesn't exactly set the mood."

Booth smiled at the picturesque setting Russ had described. It was everything he had dreamed of when he was younger. A good job, a beautiful wife, several beautiful kids playing on a beautiful manicured lawn outside of a two story house with a white picket fence—that had been the ultimate fantasy. His dream had faded over time…especially after Rebecca had refused to marry him. He glanced past Russ and watched Temperance carefully lift a skull to her eye level as she studied it.

While she wasn't the 'stodgy traditionalist' she had accused him of being, Booth knew that he wanted to build a life with her. He realized that with their different belief systems it would be life of compromise but his unwavering love for her would allow room for a new less traditional dream.

"We'll make it work Russ. Your sister and I always figure it out…"

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"Hey Bones, you ready to go home?" He approached her, gently placing his hand on her back.

"As soon as I'm done with this and Angela reviews…."

"Angela left a couple of hours ago. So did Boy Wonder, Hodgins and your brother. Russ is staying at Hodgins' place again before he leaves tomorrow."

Brennan blinked a few times as she stared at him. "What time is it?"

"Eleven o'clock….it's time to go home. We've got to rest before Angela's big day tomorrow." He squeezed her tense shoulders and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head. She relaxed slightly under his touch and smiled at the effect he always had on her.

"You're right, let's go home."

"I will never grow tired of hearing you say that."

"What? Home?"

"No, that I'm right." He chuckled as she playfully slapped his arm. Pulling in her close for a quick kiss, he smiled. "But 'home' sounds really good too."

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"Booth come on. I don't want to be late," Brennan yelled down the hall.

He emerged from her bedroom, tucking his tee-shirt into his faded jeans and adjusting his belt buckle. "We wouldn't be running late if you could learn to keep your hands off of me."

"That last time was completely your fault."

"I can't help it if my chiseled body drives you crazy," he said as he struck a bodybuilder pose.

She rolled her eyes at his display and tossed his jacket to him. "Let's go…"

"Yeah, before your lust overcomes you yet again."

"Seriously, what's wrong with you today?" she asked as she slipped on her jacket and grabbed her bag.

"Nothing's wrong with me. It's a Saturday afternoon and I'm with the woman I love. It's just a bonus that neither one of us has ended up in the hospital today." He laughed as she stared at him as though he had lost his mind. "What I'm trying to say Bones is that I'm happy. Aren't you?"

Her brow creased at the term 'happy'. She tried to remember the last time she had felt truly happy.

"Temperance, is that really such a difficult question?" His voice carried a weight of hurt that she'd never heard before.

"I…I'm not sure…I mean, I…I think I remember being happy before my parents left but…"

"So it is a difficult question but only because you're overanalyzing it." He pulled her into a hug and held her tight. His lips brushed against her ear as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. "Close your eyes and just tell me what you feel. Don't think about it…just feel."

"Booth, we need to leave."

"And we will after this. Now close your eyes."

"This is silly."

"Indulge me Bones."

"I thought I did that earlier…that's why we're running late."

"What are you feeling?"

"Besides irritated?"

Booth sighed at her inability to share with him. "Temperance please."

"Fine." She closed her eyes, inhaling Booth's scent and enjoying the feel of his arms around her. What did she feel? She clung to Booth and searched for the answer.

"Safe and loved," she finally breathed into his ear. "And…happy." Her eyes flew open at her own admission. "I'm happy Booth."

He relaxed his hold on her and leaned back to see her face. "Good. You deserve that Temperance. That's all I ever want for you."

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Booth felt her hold on his right hand tighten as they crossed the street. The small gallery was full of people mingling close together, laughing and talking. He knew that crowds weren't really her thing but it always amused him of how self-assured she was until faced with a large group of living people. It wasn't a phobia so much as a dislike of people invading her personal space though Brennan was prone to invading the spaces of others when it suited her needs.

They carefully made their way through the eclectic crowd, comprised of earthy bohemians, average middle class blue collar types and slightly more wealthy upper crust alum. Hodgins appeared in the middle of the crowd and waved them to his position near the open bar.

"Good, there's still plenty of alcohol," Brennan said as she approached the entomologist.

"And it's good to see you too Brennan," Hodgins replied. "What took you guys so long?"

"Parking," Booth interjected before Brennan had a chance to answer the question in her usual blunt manner.

Slapping Booth on his shoulder, he laughed. "Parking…yeah right. Hey Brennan, Ange has been looking for you."

"Where is she?" she asked as she handed Booth a glass of beer.

He pointed across the room to a relatively large crowd of people. Brennan raised an eyebrow at him. "Thanks for narrowing that down Jack." She shielded her glass of white wine as she slowly made her way through the crowd.

"Ange said that the crowd would thin out in another hour or two," Hodgins said in a loud voice to compensate for the noisy crowd. "She's been really excited and nervous about this whole thing."

"What's the word on her work?"

"People love it of course. Especially this one guy, Brad." He snorted as he said the man's name. "What the hell kind of name is Brad?"

Booth grinned at the doctor's obvious jealousy. "Sounds like a frat boy to me."

"Totally a frat boy name!"

"When are you going to tell her?"

"What? That Brad is a frat boy? I think that's fairly obvious and needs no explanation."

"No, idiot. When are you going to tell her how you feel about her?"

Hodgins quickly downed the remainder of his beer. "A few more of these and I should be ready to make an ass of myself."

"You're able to do that at work without the benefits of alcoholic beverages," Zach said as he approached the men.

Booth quickly stepped between the two before Hodgins tried to physically hurt the young assistant. "Where's Russ?"

"With Angela. She said something about being left in charge of his safety and she was serious about her responsibility and…"

"I don't need to know verbatim what she said, kid," Booth replied as he held up his hand. "As long as he's with Angela, I know he's in good hands."

"If he's with Angela, he's in the best hands on the planet," Jack mumbled as he reached for another beer.

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A few hours and several drinks later, the crowd had indeed thinned out and Brennan breathed a sigh of relief at the ability to walk around the gallery without bumping into someone.

"You okay sweetie?" Angela found her friend staring at one of her more forlorn pieces of work. She had completed that particular painting a few weeks after Kirk's death.

"I'm fine." She smiled at her friend before returning her attention to the painting. "I'm proud of you Angela. Your exhibit was extremely successful."

"Yes it was," she agreed enthusiastically. "In fact, Carly said that some guy bought one of my larger paintings for an obscene amount of money. I just hope it wasn't that annoying frat boy Brad." Angela chuckled. "But you know, it's not about the money….people really seemed to connect with my work, with what I was trying to convey."

"Of course they did. Angela, your work—your artwork and your work at the lab—they evoke such a wide spectrum of emotions."

Angela hugged her friend and laughed. "Look at you talking about emotions without a single anthropological rant. You've come a long way baby."

"Can I get in on this whole hugging thing?" Russ grinned at them as they released each other.

"You're leaving now?" Brennan didn't bother to hide her disappointment. Regardless of the fact that she and her brother had reunited, she always felt a wave of panic every time he left to return to his life in North Carolina.

"Well not right this minute but soon. By the way Angela, your work is really great. I don't know art but…well, I enjoyed your work."

"That's one of the nicest reviews I've ever had Russ, thank you."

"If you really want to hear a nice review of your work, talk to 'bug boy'. He's been telling everyone who would listen to him how great you are and how great your work is."

Brennan smiled as her friend blushed. "Sounds like Zach may have been on to something earlier."

"I think I'll freshen up my drink," Angela said as she excused herself from the siblings.

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Booth sipped his beer as he watched Temperance and Russ talking on the other side of the room. He knew that she would be disappointed and a little upset after her brother left later. As he pondered how to relieve some of Brennan's sadness that he knew would set in later, his cell phone rang.

"Booth," he answered, his eyes never leaving Brennan.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, it's so nice to know that your injuries from yesterday were not too serious."

His eyes grew wide at the sound of the familiar voice. "Max Keenan."

Booth took a deep breath and an opportunity to engrave the last image of a happy Temperance Brennan into his mind. He knew he wouldn't see her happy again for a long while.


	32. Chapter 32

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 32**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own them, even after 32 chapters of angst, love and some mature content.**

**Author's notes: You know the line—thanks to all of you who continue to read this story and special thanks to those of you who continue to review.**

**To Howdylynn—You will always get a shout out just for being you! Don't worry about being clever in your reviews…although you always are. I, too, cannot wait for November 1 and the new ep of BONES. In fact, I took a vacation day to make sure I would be home to see it. Does that mean I'm a wee bit obsessed? (LOL)**

**To BonesDBchippie—Glad you enjoyed the last chapter but I hope you're ready for a little more angst. Fair warning my dear.**

**To jaed621—Prepare for more nervousness…sorry but our fave couple can't be completely happy yet.**

**To amyrb—Welcome and thanks for reviewing. Nice comments are always appreciated.**

**And to my dear, dear elliot02uk (Jean B.)—Me, naughty? What in the world have I ever done to give you that impression? (evil grin) I promise that I didn't hurt Booth in this chapter—at least not physically. Enjoy….split infinitives and all. (wink)**

**And for the rest of you lovely, lovely people, I really do appreciate that you take the time to review. Even if it's one word or a whole paragraph, your comments always make it worthwhile to continue this story. And for those of you who are just as invested in "Hodgela", I promise you will see more of their budding relationship in the future. So please, read, review and let me know you're still out there.**

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"Max Keenan." Booth's eyes left Temperance and Russ and slowly scanned the room and then the area outside through the large plate glass windows. "Where are you?"

The question was greeted with a wry chuckle on the other end of the line. "Have you ever had a bad guy answer that question Agent Booth?" The chuckle slowly died and gave way to a tired sad sigh. "I really do apologize for your injuries in the parking garage. My friends were only supposed to rough you up a little…scare you….and in turn scare Temperance."

"That was your doing?" He briefly wondered how the hell a man like Max Keenan could be Temperance's father.

Another sigh mixed with a long pause. "If you hadn't broken Rocco's wrist, you would've received nothing more than a black eye and a few scrapes…"

"Oh so you blame the victim, huh? Look Max—or are you still using Matt or maybe it's something new this week—why don't you just tell me where you are and I'll come pick you up. I promise that we'll protect you…"

Booth listened to the silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like an eternity. He glanced up and saw Brennan watching him and he could sense that she knew something was wrong.

"You can't protect me…you can barely protect my daughter. The scare tactic in the Hoover building parking garage didn't work did it? She's still intent on finding me, isn't she?" His voice was hollow with a twinge of sadness. "Just like her mother….so damn stubborn."

For a brief moment Booth empathized with Max Keenan's plight of keeping Temperance safe. "Just tell me where you are. If you're really concerned about your children's safety, turn yourself in."

"I am concerned for the safety of my children!" Max responded angrily. "Ruth and I…leaving them was the only way to keep McVicar and the others away—the only way! Don't you dare judge me or my actions when you don't know what I've dealt with."

Booth's grip on his cell phone tightened. "And don't you dare make this about _you_ and only you," he seethed. "I can understand why you two left Chicago…drawing McVicar away from Temperance and Russ…but you don't seem to comprehend the irreparable damage you've done."

Both men were silent for a long moment, allowing their anger to slowly dissipate.

"Max, you're wanted for questioning in connection with Agent Andrews' death as well as the death of his 'informant'…"

"That man was no informant," the older man interjected.

"I know. He's the person the syndicate—Jared Piazza—sent to kill Temperance…as a warning to you."

"You're a smart man Agent Booth but the plan to kill my daughter was not to warn me. It was to draw me out of hiding so they could kill me too."

"Did you kill Andrews and Mason Short?"

"As I said Agent Booth, you're a smart man….but some subjects are better left alone. Take good care of my daughter."

"Max…" The dial tone in his ear signified the end to their very odd conversation. Booth checked his phone and quickly pulled up the list of incoming calls. Brennan's father had called him from a local number. As he quickly dialed a number to one of the technology geeks in the Hoover building, Booth noticed Brennan walking toward him. He swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of their impending conversation.

"Watts, this is Booth. I need you to trace a local number for me and get an address ASAP. Yeah, 555-8760….yeah, I'll hold."

"Booth? What's wrong?" Her blue eyes held a slight glimmer of fear. Brennan had watched him from across the room—one moment he had been at ease, staring at her with a wistful smile on his face and the next moment, he was tense, his body rigid and on full alert.

Grabbing a cocktail napkin from the bar nearby, Booth searched his jacket for a pen. "Go ahead Watts…765 River Street…that's a string of abandoned warehouses…yeah thanks."

"Do we have another case?"

He paused and took a deep breath. "Your father just called me."

Shock and disbelief flooded her senses at his statement. "He called…you?"

Nodding his head, Booth placed his hands on her arms and stared into her eyes. "He called from a local number that's been traced to a pay phone on River Street."

"Let's go." She pulled herself from his grasp and turned to leave. He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

"I'm going. I think you and Russ should go with Angela…"

"He's _my_ father Seeley," she said softly.

Sighing heavily, he relaxed his hold on her arm but didn't let go. "We're not going for a family reunion Temperance. When we find him, I'll have to arrest him and take him in…"

Brennan's gaze dropped to the floor. "I know but I need to be there when you find him."

"What's going on?" Russ asked as he approached them. His eyes traveled to Booth's hand grasping his sister's left arm. He watched as the agent slowly let go of Temperance.

"Dad called Booth. They've traced the call to a pay phone on River Street." Her matter-of-fact tone on the subject of their fugitive father bothered Russ. "We're leaving to go find him…"

"I'm going too," he stated firmly. Russ felt his stomach lurch at the thought of seeing his father face to face again but he was determined that his little sister would not go through this alone.

Booth stared at the stubborn siblings. "Fine, but you both have to listen to everything I say. If I tell you to stay in the car, then for the love of God, stay—got it?" They both nodded at him as he pulled out his cell phone again and dialed another number.

"Deputy Director Cullen, it's Booth….yes, sir I know that it's a Saturday but I just received a phone call from Max Keenan…yes, it was traced to local pay phone on River Street….we're ten minutes away from that area…yes, sir, understood." He closed the phone and slipped it back into his jacket.

"Backup will meet us there. Let's go."

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Angela stood near the bar area half-listening to frat boy Brad rave about her artwork. He was an attractive man—tall, well built, muscular—but he was missing something. _He's not Jack_, her brain screamed at her for the tenth time since Brad had accosted her as she ordered a martini.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Booth answer his cell phone. The change in his demeanor was scary at best. One minute he had been standing there once again watching Brennan, smiling and obviously lost in thought about her best friend. After answering his phone, a look of pure panic seemed to have invaded his body as he tensed and searched the room for someone. Angela could see why he had been so effective as a sniper.

Shortly after his terse phone conversation had ended, Booth was on the phone again as Brennan approached him, matching his concerned look with one of her own. She watched as he closed his phone, placing it back in his jacket while talking to Brennan. Angela's eyes narrowed as Booth grabbed her friend's arm roughly and pulled her back toward him. Just as she was about to excuse herself from Brad's presence, Russ had joined the couple and Booth had relinquished his hold on Brennan. Another quick phone call on Booth's part and the trio practically ran out of the gallery.

"Excuse me Brad." Angela searched the crowd for Jack. Upon spotting him across the room with Zach, she moved swiftly toward them.

"Jack, something's going on." She grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the exit.

"Whoa, whoa, Ange. What's going on where?" He gently tugged her hand and turned her to face him. Her brown eyes were slightly glazed and her cheeks were flushed from the amount of alcohol she had consumed.

"I don't know what it is…but Booth was on the phone and then he and Bren…and then Russ…and they ran out the door…and we need to follow them. You drive!" She pulled on his hand again, propelling him forward.

"Angela, I can't drive us…I've had a few too many beers." His body collided with hers as she stopped short.

"Zach, have you had anything to drink?" She turned her eyes toward the young assistant.

He gulped and looked down at his glass. "Ginger ale," he replied sadly. "But Angela, I can't drive. I don't have a license."

"Zach! Ugh, did you ever take driver's ed?" She glanced out the window and watched as Booth, Brennan and Russ climbed into the SUV.

"Yes, but after I confused the brake pedal with the accelerator and crashed through a fence and hit a mailbox…well, the instructor wouldn't allow me to drive again." His face turned a soft shade of pink at the embarrassing memory.

"Well, there are no fences around the downtown DC area." She grabbed the tie that he had worn despite being informed of the casual dress code and pulled him close to her. "Take Jack's keys and let's go."

"Did I mention that I hit a cow too?" he squeaked as the artist used the tie as a leash and led him across the room.

Hodgins watched the scene in amusement. "Maybe I should've worn a tie," he muttered as he ran after them.

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Dusk had settled over the city leaving a hazy gray sky streaked with an orange glow. Booth slowed the SUV as he made a right turn on River Street. Brennan's eyes scanned the streets catching the occasional glimpse of a homeless person. Otherwise the street was empty.

"Here we are…765." He stopped the SUV and put it park.

"Let's go in," Brennan said as she reached to open her door.

"Whoa Bones. Just hold up, okay?" He grabbed her hand, squeezing it slightly. "We're not going to go rushing in there and possibly spook him. We're going to wait and observe…" He didn't want to tell her that his gut was screaming at him that something was off about this whole scenario.

Max Keenan had managed to keep his whereabouts, even the fact that he was alive, secret for many years. Now, suddenly, he makes a phone call to a federal agent—a phone call that could be traced, unlike the one he had made to his daughter—and gives away his location. Nope, too easy. And Booth had never been a fan of occurrences that were either too coincidental or too easy.

"How long do we wait?" Russ asked from the backseat.

"Until backup gets here. The call came from that pay phone over there." He pointed to the ancient looking piece of equipment standing outside of the building marked 765. "That doesn't necessarily mean that he's in that building. He could be anywhere around here so keep your eyes open."

Brennan nodded as she glanced out the front windshield for a few moments and then checked the side view mirror on the passenger's side door. A few more homeless people slowly walked along the street, entering and exiting the alleyways. The population of the downtrodden had increased tenfold in the years that Brennan had lived in DC.

Several more minutes passed in silence as the three continued to sit and watch the area, examining every person in the area.

A man appeared from around the corner and began walking up the street toward 765. He was clean shaven with short cropped grey hair. His clothes, while wrinkled, were clean. The man stood out in the crowd as he moved swiftly with his head down and his hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Dad," Brennan whispered. Before Booth could stop her, she had opened the door of the SUV and exited the vehicle.

Her eyes were fixated on the man she had not seen for fifteen long years as her legs propelled her forward. He looked older than the last time she saw him and the sadness etched on his features was a sharp contrast to the smiling, laughing man she had last seen in December of 1991.

Booth and Russ sat stunned for a moment as they watched Brennan slowly begin her approach. Russ moved to open the back door of the SUV but was stopped by Booth.

"Wait…let's see what happens." He wanted Temperance to have a chance to speak to her father before the calvary arrived and Max was taken into custody.

"Dad," Brennan called out softly. Max's gaze found hers and he stopped walking.

"Temperance?"

She nodded, her eyes stinging with tears. "It's me Dad."

He looked past her, spying the SUV and its two occupants. "I'm sorry," he said as he suddenly began sprinting toward the building leaving his daughter standing in the middle of the street.

Max scrambled up the stairs to the building and flung open the door. Booth and Russ quickly exited the SUV as Brennan moved to chase her father. The explosion from the building that Max had just entered stunned them all.

Brennan felt the heat from the flames that snaked through the door and windows of the building. Brick, glass and other debris fell through the dark sky landing on the street around them. She moved toward the building but was pulled back by Booth.

"Let go! Dad! Dad!" she cried out as she struggled to escape Booth's grasp.

"Temperance, no!" He used all of his strength to ensure that she didn't leave his embrace. He began to pull her away from the building even as she continued to fight him.

"He's in there Booth! Dad!" Booth fell to the ground with Brennan. Russ rushed toward the couple, dropping to his knees in front of his sister.

"Tempe, he's gone…he's gone." He lowered his head as tears rolled down his face. Both of their parents were dead—again. He and Temperance had been orphaned a second time.

Brennan ceased her struggle to escape Booth's hold as her shoulders sagged. Her father had been right in front of her and now… Her gaze fell on the burning mass behind her brother. No tears fell from her eyes. There was no sadness or anger coursing through her being. There was nothing—no feeling, no emotion. After the events of the last few minutes, Brennan welcomed the numbness. It was an old friend that she had thrust aside since Booth had entered her world. But now, not even Booth could repair this damage or erase this event.

"Dad," she whispered one last time just as backup arrived.

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"Zach, for the last freakin' time—the brake is that pedal in the middle and the long pedal is what makes the car go." Hodgins snapped the rubber band around his wrist several times, finding that the sensation was actually fueling his anger.

The mini-cooper came to an abrupt stop and then sped forward for a few feet before stopping yet again. Angela groaned from the cramped backseat.

"Oh bad idea, bad idea," she muttered as she clutched her stomach.

"You know, I think I'm sober enough now to drive us," Hodgins stated as he reached over to grab the steering wheel.

"No! Don't do that while I'm driving," Zach yelled.

"What you're doing to my car cannot possibly be considered driving. Now put your foot on the damn brake, stop the car, shift it into park and let me drive."

"Which one is the brake again?"

"Zach! I swear to God!"

"Hodgins, it's a valid question. Your steering wheel is on the right side of the car as opposed to the left. Hence, there is a strong probability that the brake and the accelerator have been switched." He slammed his foot on the brake causing all three occupants to lurch forward. "Okay, found it."

"The only strong probability here is that you are never driving again. Put it in park!" As Hodgins began yelling at the young protégé, a loud explosion shook the car.

Angela, Hodgins and Zach paused as they saw a huge ball of fire float above a building a couple of streets over.

"Oh god, Bren…" Angela's face turned deathly pale as she recalled the incident in the parking garage. Brennan and Booth had had a close call that day…. "Jack."

Hodgins shoved the car in park and forced Zach to exit the car. He climbed across the middle console area as Zach hurriedly ran around the car to enter the passenger's side.

"It's gonna be okay Angela," Hodgins said as he turned back to look at her. "Hold on." He put the small car in drive and pushed the accelerator to the floor. His chest tightened as he sped down the road and prayed that he had not lied to the woman he was quickly falling in love with—their friends had to be alright…they had to be.

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Hodgins made a right turn on River Street, taking in the burning building and the swarm of FBI bodies roping off the scene. His clear blue eyes then fell on the three figures sitting in the middle of the street. "They're all okay Angela," he said as he pointed.

"Thank God," she sighed.

Stopping the car at the curb, Hodgins, Angela and Zach quickly climbed out and rushed toward the crime scene tape.

"Whoa, you can't come in here," a young agent yelled at them.

Hodgins pulled his Jeffersonian id card from his wallet and waved it in front of the agent's face. "We're with Dr. Brennan."

"Let them through." Cullen approached the tape and lifted it for them to pass under. "We're going to need your help."

They followed the senior agent to Booth's SUV where Brennan, Russ and Booth now stood. It was obvious that Russ had been crying but Brennan….she seemed almost catatonic.

"Bren, sweetie," Angela walked to her friend and gathered her in a tight embrace. Brennan didn't reciprocate. She simply continued to stare straight ahead at the flames still roaring through the night.

"What happened?" she questioned Booth who stood behind her friend.

"Bones' father called me. We traced it to this area and….he ran when he saw her and the…um, the building exploded." He watched as Angela's embrace became tighter and Temperance's arms continued to hang by her side.

"Oh my god," Angela whispered.

The lights and sirens from the approaching fire trucks drowned out any further conversation as the group stood and watched the firefighters prepare to battle the blaze.

"Ange, could you take Russ and Temper…"

"I'm not going anywhere," Brennan stated in a cold detached voice.

Russ and Booth shared a concerned look. "Tempe, come on…"

"You can leave if you want to Russ. After all, that's what you do best." She didn't move. She didn't so much as blink. She stood and watched the movements of every firefighter.

His jaw clenched as he watched his sister. "And you can shut down and be a cold hearted bitch since that's what you do best," he spat out as he turned and stalked away.

Angela's jaw dropped as she and Booth watched the exchange. The agent gestured for her to follow Russ and she nodded. He moved to stand in front of Brennan, to force her to look at him. He was confronted with a blank stare.

"Temperance…"

"You can go with him." Her eyes were void of any emotion as she spoke to him. "I don't need either of you here right now."

Pain seared through his chest at her words. They had come so far in the last couple of weeks…._she_ had come so far…and now here she was pushing him away again. They had been teetering on the cusp of normal—well, normal for them—when her father had once again destroyed her world. He let her walk away from him, watching as she approached Hodgins and Zach, instructing them to bring certain instruments and equipment with them when they returned to the scene from the Jeffersonian.

Booth turned his face up toward the sky, tears stinging in his eyes as he squeezed them shut. "Please God, help her through this…."


	33. Chapter 33

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 33**

**Disclaimer: Alas, they are still not mine.**

**Author's notes: As always, I appreciate everyone that has taken the time to read this story and I want to give a special shout out to all of those wonderful people who continue to review. We are a ways off from any fluffy resolution so prepare for more angst—it's just the mood I'm in right now because my job officially thoroughly sucks at the moment…I'm serious, any place that you walk into that immediately takes away any joy is succubus material.**

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Night had fallen quickly over DC but the scene on River Street was bathed in light from the still burning embers of the building, the mobile command post's floodlights, the lights that Brennan had ordered from the Jeffersonian and of course the news media's unwavering camera lights following all of the action. He heard the hungry piranha in the background shouting questions at FBI agents and at Brennan.

"Get those damn reporters back 500 more feet from this scene!" Barking the order at a young female agent released an ounce of the anger Booth felt at the situation—at Max Keenan; even at Temperance herself.

He stood on the other side of his SUV, watching as firemen put out the final stubborn flame that refused to go away. It was like watching a child attempt to blow out trick candles on a birthday cake. Brennan approached the scene, clad in her Jeffersonian coveralls, waiting for the firemen to clear from her work area. Booth had tried to reason with her that she didn't need to do this…she didn't need to be the person to comb through the charred remains of the building and pick up pieces of her father's body. For her part, Brennan ignored him and his concerns, which only managed to piss him off further.

The past two hours had not yielded any emotion from her. It was just the opposite, he thought—the hours had managed to help enforce her icy exterior. It was shock, he reasoned. It had to be shock. So he decided to take his girlfriend's logical approach to the situation and wait nearby for the shock to dissolve.

He leaned against the SUV, placing his elbows on the hood of the vehicle and buried his face in his hands. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Booth glanced over to his right to find his boss staring at him with a concerned look.

"You okay, son?" Cullen already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask nonetheless.

Booth simply nodded, though they both knew his affirmative nod was a lie. His gaze returned to the scene across the street and he watched as she entered the rubble. He saw her pause and motion for Zach to hand her an evidence bag as she lifted part of a lower leg with a boot still attached to it. Seemingly unfazed, she placed the remains—her father's remains, his brain screamed at him—into the bag and continued sifting through the area.

Feeling his stomach lurch at her emotionless display, Booth cradled his head in his hands. "God," he whispered.

"Perhaps you need to take your partner home Seeley," the senior agent advised. "I don't think rummaging around the place picking up pieces of her dead father is going to help anyone—her team can handle this."

"I agree and that's what I told her. You see how successful that conversation was."

Cullen's eyes followed Brennan as she meticulously and carefully moved debris in her search. "Dr. Brennan has the uncanny, and sometimes enviable, ability to detach herself from these types of situations. There have been times in my career that I wish I could do that but….that talent comes with a hefty price, I'm sure. And sooner or later, Booth, she'll have to pay the price. You can only keep your emotions over a loss in check for so long. Believe me, I know. After Amy died…" He paused and took a deep breath as if it hurt just to say her name sometimes. "I made sure I kept it together for my wife. I allowed her to cry, to mourn. I held her and told her that we would be okay, even when I didn't really believe it myself. I held it together for a week and a half Booth…probably would've been longer if I hadn't taken Amy's art supplies that she'd had in the hospital back to her bedroom. I sat down at her desk and I finally allowed myself to mourn my little girl…."

He squeezed Booth's shoulder as he continued to stare at Brennan. "Dr. Brennan doesn't seem to be the type of person who has ever mourned a loss—and I've read the file, she's lost a great deal. I know your relationship with her has changed and I don't need the details…"

"Plausible deniability," Booth offered.

"Exactly," Cullen agreed before he continued. "You need to there for her when this all finally comes crashing down on her. I don't envy your position because from the looks of it….that's a lot of pain that's never been dealt with."

"Yes sir," he whispered. Cullen patted his shoulder and left him alone to ponder how he was going to his Bones back from the darkness in which she had shrouded herself.

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Angela had Jack's keys ready to unlock the front door when an elderly man suddenly opened it.

"Miss Montenegro, Mr. Brennan," he said as he motioned for them to enter. "Jack called and informed me that I was to see that you are both taken care of this evening."

"Did he mention leaving the liquor cabinet unlocked?" Russ asked as he removed his jacket.

"I second that," Angela said as she raised her hand.

The man smiled at both of them. "The study area; second entryway on your left. I left the cabinet open and built a fire."

"Thank you." Angela offered the man a small smile as she followed Russ.

He placed his jacket on the back of one of the chairs near the entrance. She watched as he walked over to the liquor cabinet, removed a crystal carafe of scotch and two small glasses and walked back toward her.

Angela had settled into the chair near the fire, finding comfort in the warmth, until the memory of the flames burning away the building on River Street surfaced. Russ' face remained impassive in true Brennan-like fashion as he poured the amber colored liquid into his glass and then Angela's. He downed his first glass in one swig and immediately poured another. The concern Angela felt for Brennan was now transferred to Russ—and she had a feeling that Russ would probably be more receptive of a proffered friendly shoulder.

"Russ…" she began as she watched him down his second glass and pour a third.

"It's just like it was all those years ago. She just shuts down and pushes everyone away as if that's going to stop the pain…but nothing stops it." His voice was low and raspy from the sting of the alcohol. He held up the glass and stared at its contents. "This will numb the hell out of it for a few hours though."

Angela leaned forward and stared at him intently. "You know that she's never really dealt with any of her emotions—not the hurt and pain over losing her parents and you; and now losing them all over again years later. You and your sister need each other now more than ever Russ."

His mirthless laughter filled the room. "I think she made it pretty damn clear tonight how she really feels about me…after I thought we had moved past that."

"Did you two ever really discuss how you both felt all those years ago?"

Russ shook his head as he leaned back and then drank his third glass of scotch.

"Then for god's sake Russ, get your head out of your ass and realize that she still harbors some animosity toward you and you're still angry with her for blaming everything on you!" She took a sip of her drink and grimaced as the liquid burned a path down her throat. "I believe the brother-sister exchange we all witnessed tonight proves my point."

He dropped his gaze to the glass in his hand and sighed. A single flame flared as it found a piece of wood that had not been touched by the fire yet. Russ turned his head toward the fireplace as tears threatened to spill from his dark eyes. "I lost my family again tonight," he whispered as his breath hitched and a sob escaped him.

She moved quickly to sit beside him and placed her arm around his shoulders. His father's death and his sister's rejection mixed with three glasses of scotch managed to break him down—so he did the only thing he could; he cried.

Angela let him have his release without interruption of false words of comfort. She sat quietly and stroked his back, waiting for the tears to stop. As his sobs subsided and his breathing became normal again, Angela sighed.

"You still have your sister Russ. She just allowed you back into her life…don't prove her right by deserting her again. She needs you now as much as you need her."

He lifted his sad, tear-streaked face and stared at her. "You're right," he admitted softly. "But how do I make sure that she realizes that?"

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He was dead tired after spending the last eighteen hours standing on his feet, pacing, watching over her. In all those hours she had never once relented or turned her gaze his way. He knew that he didn't exist in her world right now—the relationship Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan had forged meant nothing to her in the midst of her current search.

Booth watched with tired aching eyes as she carefully scoured the area for any pieces of her father's body or potential pieces of evidence that had been overlooked. In all the hours spent at the scene, Brennan was the only person searching that had been there from the beginning. The FBI Crime Scene techs had switched off personnel so as not to overwhelm anyone. Hodgins and Zach had left five hours ago, exhausted not only by the search but by the relentless nature of their friend. He knew that if he didn't intervene, she would stay for days.

After borrowing a pair of firemen's boots to ensure that he didn't injure his feet on any sharp objects, Booth slowly made his way to her. Her intensity had been one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place but now…now it was frightening.

She gently sifted through the last marked area of the rubble retrieving small fragments of what he perceived were bones.

"Temperance." She stopped for a moment as though contemplating whether she wanted to acknowledge his presence. When she didn't respond, he moved forward—physically and verbally. If he couldn't talk her into coming with him, Booth decided that he would physically remove her from the scene.

"It's time to go home and rest for awhile Temperance. You've done everything you can here…"

Brennan stood and faced him. There was still no trace of emotion on her soot covered face. Her blue eyes were ice cold and distant.

"You're right Booth, there's nothing more I can do here. If you can have some of your techs place the remaining evidence into the Jeffersonian van, I can transport everything to the lab and begin the reconstruction of the remains…"

"Your _father's_ remains!" he shouted. He wanted to grab her and shake her until she came to her senses but he refrained. Instead he opted for running his hands over his face in a vain attempt to wipe the tiredness from his features.

"I know whose remains these are," she stated coldly. Those were the last words she said to him as she walked past him.

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He entered his apartment for the first time in two weeks. The thought of returning to hers without her there was more than Booth could bear at the moment. His only thought now was of sleep…he would be of no use to her if he was exhausted. Booth had made arrangements for Agent Richardson and Agent Moore to switch off shifts watching over Brennan at the lab. Not her apartment—but the lab—where he knew that she would continue her current state of denial and use her work to rid herself of her demons.

Removing his gun from his holster, Booth placed it on the nightstand and then dropped the holster itself to the floor. That item was quickly followed by his jacket, shoes and shirt. He fell onto the bed face first and buried his face in one of the pillows. Booth knew that his slumber would not be peaceful. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brennan—her arms outstretched, screaming for her father, screaming at him to let her go running into a burning building to rescue a dead man—and his heart ached even more for her.

Damn Max Keenan. Why did he make that phone call? Why did he give his location away so easily? The answers eluded his sleep deprived brain as he turned to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. The only thing he was absolutely certain of at the moment was that he missed Brennan.

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Exhausted, covered with soot and reeking of smoke and charred flesh, Hodgins entered the study eager for a stiff shot of whiskey before heading upstairs for a long hot shower and a few hours of sleep. He paused when he saw Angela, looking more forlorn than anyone he'd ever seen, sitting on the floor near the fire, her back flush to the side of the couch. All of the excitement and anticipation she'd had just the day before her art show was gone. Hodgins felt his heart wrench at the thought that she was sad—it reminded him of the weeks after Kirk's death when she had walked around the lab, a ghost of the person she usually was.

He quietly made his way to her and sat down. Glancing at his hands, he wished he had taken the time to wash up before entering his house. He didn't want to soil her perfect skin with his soot covered hands but the urge to touch her was almost unbearable.

"Angela?"

She turned her sad brown eyes toward him and studied his face, bathed in the glow of the fire. "You're just now getting in?"

"Yeah."

"Bren is still at the scene isn't she?" She didn't need to hear his answer. She knew her stubborn friend too well.

"Yeah, she is." He stared at her, studying her features, noting how she chewed softly on her bottom lip when she was worried. "Are you okay?"

She chuckled softly and turned her to face the fire once more. "_I'm_ fine. I can call my father right now if I wanted to and I know that he wouldn't run away from me…but Bren." She paused and turned back to him. "Brennan…I can't even begin to imagine. I mean, I knew about her parents, her time in foster care and her problems with Russ but I never really took the time to imagine the pain she's endured."

"Ange…"

"Tonight, Russ broke down and I caught a glimpse of what Bren must have felt…what she must be feeling right now."

Hodgins sighed and gathered her hands into his own. "I'm glad that at least one member of her family is able to show some emotion because Brennan has completely shut down. You can't imagine her pain—and God knows I wouldn't want you to—because _she_ doesn't even realize the depth of it yet."

Moving one of his hands away from hers, Hodgins wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "Don't do this to yourself Angela. Sympathize with her, be there for her when she's ready to deal with everything but don't throw yourself into an emotional tailspin over something you can't control. Brennan has to set the pace on this—not you, not Booth and not Russ."

She relaxed against him and sighed. "So now you're a wise bug and slime guy?"

"Yes, Grasshopper," he said. He smiled as she chuckled at his remark.

"You also stink," she informed him, although she made no effort to move away from him.

"Sorry." He started to remove his arm from her shoulders and back away but she grabbed the lapel of his coveralls to keep him from going anywhere.

"Can you sit with me for just a few more minutes?"

He gently brushed aside a stray strand of dark hair that had fallen across her forehead, leaving a small streak of soot in the process. Even that small imperfection didn't diminish her beauty. "I can stay for as long as you want."

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The sunlight streaming through the glass in the rooftop in the Medico-Legal lab area was the only proof Brennan had that it was next the day. Two o'clock in the afternoon to be exact, although she could really care less about the time.

She had returned to the lab and began the task of reconstructing the pieces of bones in an effort to form an entire skeleton. Her head ached, her shoulders and neck were tight with anxiety and tension and her body's demand for sleep was unwavering. But Temperance Brennan didn't stop—she ignored the pain, both physical and emotional, and worked on the task at hand.

Brennan lifted the lower portion of the leg that she had located at the scene from the evidence bag and placed it on the table. She stared at the boot that encased the foot of the severed limb. The laces and the manner in which they were tied, double knotted, provoked a long forgotten memory.

"_And then we loop this and the bunny goes through the hole…"_

_Matthew Brennan's four year old daughter interrupted the lesson. "Daddy, that's not a bunny, it's a shoelace."_

_He laughed at his little girl's observation. "You're right Temperance…daddy's silly isn't he?"_

_Temperance nodded and crossed her arms as she stared at him. "What's next Daddy?"_

_He tied her shoelace once and then tied it again, creating a double knot. "Now your shoelaces will definitely not come untied, ever again!"_

"_Really?" She glanced down at her shoes, impressed with her father's work._

"_Yes, really," her mother responded dryly from the doorway. "Matthew, you know it takes forever to untie those knots."_

"_Well my dear, would you rather untie these knots or place Band-Aids on your perfect daughter's perfect little knees after she trips over her laces?" He winked at Temperance before he picked her up and carried her over to her mother. She wrapped her arms around her father's neck and hugged him as hard as she could._

"_You're impossible," Christine Brennan replied as she laughed. "And you're the one untying her shoes later."_

"Sweetie?" Angela stood a good distance away from her friend, watching her as she stared at the limb and the boot sitting in front of her. She had called out to her friend several times in the last minute and had not received a response. Swallowing the nausea she felt at the sight of Max Keenan's severed leg sitting in front his daughter, Angela slowly walked toward her friend.

"Temperance," she said softly, placing her hand on Brennan's left shoulder.

Brennan blinked and came out of her trance-like state. Her gaze found its way to Angela's face as her eyes refocused on the present.

Angela's heart shattered into a million little pieces at the sight of her best friend. She seemed so lost and defeated…two words that she had never associated with Brennan before.

"Sweetie, why don't you take a break? Russ is in Jack's office…why don't you go talk to him for a minute?"

"No," she whispered as she fingered the boot's laces.

Angela placed her hand on Brennan's forearm and forced her to look at her. "Okay, if you don't want to talk to him, fine. But you are going to go and sit in your office and eat the food that I brought for you. Thirty minutes, sweetie." Her hope was that she could coax Brennan into her office, feed her and force her to sleep for a few hours.

"No, Ange, I've got to…"

"Everything will still be here Bren. I promise."

She pulled Brennan by the arm, forcing her to stand up. After removing the latex gloves from her friend's hands, Angela guided her toward the office. She had placed a container of sweet and sour soup on Brennan's coffee table, along with a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin. She knew that when the anthropologist went this long without any rest, a headache was inevitable.

Brennan sat down on her couch and stared at the container as though she had no idea what to do with it. Angela removed the lid from the container and offered her friend a spoon.

"If you want something different I'll go get it for you."

Brennan shook her head as she leaned forward and stirred the contents of the soup. Angela sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. _Brennan has to set the pace on this_. Jack's advice echoed through her mind.

"Okay, sweetie, I'll be in my office if you need anything." She stood and slowly walked to the door. "In my office…right around the corner…"

Receiving no reply, Angela reluctantly exited the office just as Booth entered the lab. It was obvious that he had not slept well. His bloodshot eyes locked with Angela's and he offered her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Is she in her office?"

"Yeah, I managed to convince her to try and eat something. I'm hoping that she'll rest on her couch for a few hours." They both glanced at the office door. "Booth, I…I'm not sure if she'll…"

"She will, Angela," he stated firmly. "Is Russ still at Hodgins' place or…?"

"He's here, in Jack's office."

Booth nodded. "How is he?"

Angela exhaled deeply. "_He_ is at least acknowledging his loss…he's scared that he's lost his sister again too."

"I know the feeling," he muttered as he left Angela and made his way to Brennan's office.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her stir the contents of the container sitting on the table. She looked exhausted and frail, even more so than she did when she had left him standing in the rubble at the crime scene.

"Hey Bones," he whispered as he walked into the office. She ceased stirring and removed the spoon from the container, placing it on the lid that Angela had discarded.

"Hey," she replied.

"You know I think Angela intended for you to eat that, not stare at it all day," he teased gently as he sat down beside her.

"I'm not hungry."

"Okay, then how about lying down and resting for a few hours. I know you're tired." As he reached out to touch her back Brennan sensed his movement and stood.

"Don't." She moved around the coffee table and began to pace the area in front of her desk. She knew that the minute he touched her she would break. And she couldn't break—not now, not yet. There were too many questions to be answered and she had to find them.

"Don't what Bones? Don't comfort you? Don't care for you?"

"Don't come in here and try to make this better…or pretend that it will all be okay…" She stopped pacing and stared at him. "Please leave."

He sat on the couch, stunned by her request. "Temperance…"

"Please Seeley," she whispered. "Please, just leave."

His jaw clenched as he stood and continued to stare at her. "I'll leave your office but that's as far as I'm going."

She dropped her gaze to her shoes awaiting his departure. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Booth turned and left her office. He watched as she exited the office one minute later to resume her work on her father's remains.

**Author's notes: Hmmm, was that angsty enough? Is angsty even a word or am I having a George "Dubya" moment? God, I hope not! Press the little button and let me know—not about "Dubya", cause really I could care less about that guy.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 34**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Suing me will result in a jump drive full of BONES fanfic that I've written and outlines for future stories. In other words, I'm broke.**

**Author's notes: I apologize for the very long delay in updating this story. It has been very difficult lately to find time to sit down and write between being overworked, being sick and being a little "under the weather". I'm not certain when I will be able to update again since my supervisor at work is off for the next month and I am left in charge of everything, including training some new employees. As I said, overworked….**

**This story probably doesn't have too many more chapters to it. I'm unsure of the number of chapters left but I do promise the semblance of a happy ending for our favorite couple.**

**Thanks to everyone who has continued to read this story and of course a special thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers. It's always nice to know that people enjoy the drabble that runs through my head and appears on my computer. Please read, enjoy and don't forget to review to let me know what you think.**

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Still reeling from Brennan's request to be left alone, Booth stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest and watched as she ascended the platform and resumed her work. He knew that she was beyond exhaustion at this point. He also had a feeling that if she had allowed him to touch her while they had been in her office, Brennan would have broken down. Booth could sense her teetering on the edge but she was unwilling to succumb to her grief just yet.

Moving slowly toward Hodgins' office, he cast one last glance at Brennan and sighed. He found Russ in the entomologist's office, sitting in a chair near the only window that the room contained. Russ appeared bleary-eyed and slightly dazed as he stared out the window. The day after Max Keenan's death was beautiful and sunny—an overwhelming contrast to the disposition of his children.

"Russ?" Receiving no answer, Booth walked further into the office. He stood in front of Hodgins' desk and moved a few items, including containers with creepy crawling slimy creatures he didn't want to know about, before taking a seat. "How are you doing?"

"That's kind of a stupid question, you know," Russ replied.

The agent sighed. Sighing seemed to be the only response to the Brennan siblings' answers that didn't provoke an argument.

"Is she still out there...working?" He stared out the window, watching a cloud that resembled a heart float through the clear blue sky. Tempe had never been able to see the different shapes in the clouds. She could, however, tell him how clouds formed…something their 'science teacher' father had taught her.

"Yeah, she's still working. She's not talking to anyone but Angela managed to get her to take a very short break."

"She didn't even acknowledge our presence when we came in earlier."

Booth remained silent as he watched Russ lean forward and place his head in his hands.

"I've been sitting in here…thinking about my father. All those years ago, when Mom and Dad disappeared, Tempe and I were both so…lost." Russ paused as he lifted his head and gazed out the window. "But life continued. The world didn't stop because of our despair. All these years later, the world still doesn't stop…"

The agent stood and walked over to the younger man. "I know," he said as he placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "And you and your sister have to continue to live your lives past this moment. You've both bogged yourselves down in the past for too long."

"In case you haven't noticed Booth, the present kinda sucks too."

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Pieces of bones from her father's remains lay before her like a bizarre jigsaw puzzle. Brennan pushed a few of the smaller pieces around the examination table, carefully contemplating how to put everything back together. Her gaze drifted to the severed leg and boot that she had been examining earlier. At first her eyes settled on the shoelaces but her attention was quickly diverted to the remaining flesh and muscle of the leg.

Hodgins and Zach worked diligently at separate terminals nearby. They ceased their tasks as Brennan slowly walked over to the examination table where her father's severed limb sat. The young protégé glanced at Hodgins, his brown eyes wide with fear. Would this be the moment that Dr. Brennan broke down? He frantically scanned the area for Angela—Angela would know how to deal with this.

Suddenly Brennan turned and descended the stairs, quickly making her way to Angela's office.

"Sweetie?" The artist swiveled away from her computer, watching as her friend walked toward the Angelator. "What's wrong Bren?"

"Have you input the measurements and other vital information on the warehouse into the Angelator yet?"

"Uh, yeah, I have but I don't think…"

"Run the scenario." Brennan crossed her arms over chest and waited for the hologram to appear.

"Brennan." Angela's tone was stern as she stood and placed her hands on her desk beside the keyboard. "No. No, sweetie, I will not do that. You were there for god's sake. I'm not going to replay your father's death for you again and again."

Brennan closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Please Angela," she whispered. "Just run the scenario."

Angela released a sigh of her own as she sat down and switched on the Angelator. The image of the warehouse on River Street appeared before Brennan's eyes as did a miniature version of her father. She swallowed the lump in her throat as Angela began to narrate the events.

"Your…Max Keenan entered the building and made it approximately 43.5 feet before the explosion…" She glanced over at Brennan, her impassive face bathed in the light of the hologram.

"Run it again but with my father running at a slightly faster pace."

Angela input the necessary data and the hologram started again with Max running into the building faster than before. "At that pace, he made it approximately 49.8 feet. That's not much of a difference…"

Brennan remained silent as she narrowed her eyes and stared at the hologram. Her deep blue eyes scanned the holographic image of the warehouse intently.

The ringing of Angela's office phone startled them both. "Angela Montenegro."

"Hey Ange, everything okay in there?" Hodgins asked.

"Um, yeah," she answered slowly as she turned away from her friend. "Why did you call my office instead of coming in here?" she whispered into the phone.

"Because I saw Brennan go in there and I thought maybe…" Hodgins' voice trailed off. "Never mind, there she is."

Angela quickly turned back to face the Angelator to find Brennan gone. "Okay, I think Booth has taught her some freaky Army Ranger silent stealth move thingies. Where is she going?"

"I'm not sure," Hodgins answered as he watched his colleague walk hurriedly from Angela's office. "She appears to be going to…uh-oh."

The artist dropped the phone and quickly left her office. As she entered the lab, Angela's brown eyes searched the area for her best friend. Her gaze finally landed on Hodgins as he stood on the platform with the phone still in his hand.

"Why did you say 'uh-oh' Jack?!" she demanded as she ran up the stairs to the platform without swiping her security card. The screeching sound of the alarm didn't slow Angela's pace as she made her way to Hodgins. "Where the hell is Brennan?"

"What the hell is going on out here?!!" Booth ran out of Hodgins' office with his handgun in his right hand and Russ in tow. He glanced around the platform and noticed that Brennan was not where he had left her. "Where is Temperance?!"

"She left the building," Hodgins yelled over the never ending piercing sound of the alarm.

"You let her leave the building?" Booth holstered his weapon as he moved toward the doctor in a threatening manner. Angela moved in front of Hodgins and put her arms out to stop the obviously angry agent.

"First of all, you know as well as I do that you don't 'let' Brennan do anything," Hodgins responded heatedly. "And second of all, well, I didn't feel like 'letting' her go all Kung-Fu on my ass. Seriously, she's a little scary sometimes, dude."

One of the security guards approached the platform and switched off the alarm. "Everything okay up there?" he questioned as he glanced at the tense group.

Booth moved away from the others and descended the stairs. "Did you see Dr. Brennan leave the lab?" he questioned the older man.

"Yeah, she went into the parking garage area. I guess she got a new car huh?"

Booth's eyes narrowed at the guard's assumption. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, she had a set of keys in her hands. You know, Dr. Brennan didn't strike me as the type of woman who would put much stock in a 'Magic 8' ball…"

"Crap! She took my keys!" Angela ran down the stairs and to her office. Booth, Hodgins and Russ quickly followed. They entered the artist's office to find Angela searching through her purse.

"I keep a small 'Magic 8' ball on my key chain," she explained as she searched furiously through her bag. "You know so I can it ask things like 'Will I do something incredibly stupid like allow my sleep deprived grieving best friend whose life may be in danger to steal my keys and take off with my car?'."

"Well, I'm no 'Magic 8' ball but I would say that 'chances are good'," Hodgins joked.

Booth flipped open his cell phone and began dialing. "What type of car do you drive Angela?"

"A 2004 Volkswagen Jetta…red."

"Harvey, yeah it's Booth. Look man can you do me a favor? Yeah, put an APB out on a red 2004 Volkswagen Jetta…what's the license plate?" He glanced at Angela.

"ARTLUVR; A-R-T-L-U-V-R," she answered as she dropped her bag on the couch.

"Adam, Robert, Tom, Lincoln, Union, Victor, Robert," Booth said. "Yeah, just contact me if it's found, okay? No, no, not a suspect…Thanks Harvey." He closed his phone and sighed. "Why the hell would she take off like this?"

Angela bit her lower lip as she glanced at Hodgins. "She came in here to…she asked me to run the scenario of Max Keenan's death."

His grip tightened on his phone as he glared at his girlfriend's best friend. "And did you?" Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The guilty look that appeared on Angela's face spoke volumes. "Show me," he growled.

Hodgins and Russ walked around the Angelator and waited as Angela switched it on. After a few seconds the holographic image of the warehouse appeared.

"Oh my god," Russ whispered as he stared at the image. "I can't…I can't watch this again." He walked past Booth and sat in a chair facing Angela's desk.

"Bren asked me to run the scenario twice," Angela said softly as she started the first scenario. Booth watched intently, attempting to see what Brennan had seen. "This is the second scenario with Max running at a slightly faster pace per Bren's request."

His eyes grew wide as he watched the second scenario. "Son of a bitch."

"Agent Booth!" Zach ran into the office, breathless, holding a file in one hand. "I think you need to see this. I couldn't find Dr. Brennan so… Anyway, she ran all of the customary tests on the remains from the warehouse as she would any other set of remains, including a DNA analysis. I just received that analysis from the lab and…"

"It says that's not Max Keenan's body out there," Booth finished.

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She lowered the sun visor as the harsh rays of the sun broke through the windshield. Cold air blasted from the vents tossing her long auburn streaked hair around her face and shoulders. Brennan heard a soft rock tune playing on the radio as she turned toward her destination.

She knew he would be here—it was a logical, rational conclusion on her part. Her father would come to say goodbye…maybe not to his children but to the love of his life. For all their faults, Brennan knew that her parents had truly loved each other. It was one of the few things she had never doubted in her life, especially now that she was with Booth. After being with him she could understand the type of love her parents had shared.

Booth had asked her several times after her mother's funeral if she wanted to visit the gravesite, to talk to her mom, to say goodbye. She had tried to reason with him that her dead mother couldn't hear her or respond to her and neither could the cold granite tombstone that she and Russ had purchased. This would be her first time seeing Christine Brennan's grave since the funeral. As she exited the car, Brennan steeled herself for the family reunion she was about to face.

She slowly climbed the slight hill to the section of the graveyard where her mother was buried and stopped when she spied a lone male figure on his knees in front of a tombstone. His head was lowered and his shoulders visibly shook as he stroked the granite, his fingers tracing the outline of Christine's name. Brennan had never seen her father cry and after fifteen years, especially the last twenty-four hours, the sight was surreal. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, she quietly approached him.

"Dad." Her tone was soft and gentle although her voice was husky with emotion.

Max Keenan sniffled and wiped the tears from his face before he glanced up at her. "You look like your mom," he said sadly. "Beautiful."

He turned his gaze back to his wife's tombstone and ran his hand along the cool surface. "Tempe's here, sweetheart. I'm going to leave you now so I can talk to her but I'll come back." He removed rose petals from his pocket and placed them along the edge of the tombstone. "I love you Ruth," he whispered.

Brennan felt like an intruder as she watched her father's display of affection and grief. Max slowly lifted himself from the ground and turned to face his only daughter.

"I told you to stop looking for me Temperance," he admonished her. "The explosion at the warehouse…that was supposed to ensure that you would stop looking."

"Through blueprints of the warehouse and technology in the lab, I determined that you were able to reach a chute that was used in the early 1900s to dispose of materials and other waste by dumping it into the river." Her voice sounded foreign to her, as though someone else was speaking for her. "Also the tissue of the leg we found at the scene indicated that blood flow had ceased before the explosion. That could be indicative of severe circulatory problems in that leg or the person was dead before the warehouse exploded. You didn't appear to have any problems running away from me…and you're certainly not deceased."

Max shook his head and chuckled. "Not only are you too stubborn, but you're too damn smart for your own good…you always were. I remember it always irked Russ when you…"

"Stop." Her eyes narrowed, partly in anger and partly in response to the blinding sun beating down on them. "After all this time, after everything that has happened, everything that I've learned about you and Mom, don't you dare stand there and attempt to reminisce about my childhood."

"Temperance, your mother and I did what we thought was best for both of you. We were trying to protect you…"

"By killing people? Have you added murderer to your resume of criminal activity?" Brennan felt her face flush with anger as she stared at her father.

"Oh that's right—my daughter's a crime fighter now," he replied sarcastically. "Don't you dare stand there and judge my actions when you don't have all of the facts yet. I always taught you not to jump to conclusions. I am still your father Temperance…"

"No, you're not," she stated bitterly as her eyes filled with tears. "My father was Matt Brennan. He was a science teacher and a loving husband and father. He taught me the difference between right and wrong—the basic moral and ethical fibers of a young child's life. You are not Matt Brennan. I don't know who you are…but I know who you aren't."

Sorrow filled Max's dark eyes as he moved toward her with his arms outstretched. "Tempe, sweetheart…"

"Max Keenan, stop where you are and keep your hands where I can see them!" Booth walked briskly with his gun trained on the older man until he was standing beside Brennan. "Temperance, you okay?"

She didn't respond to Booth's question as she continued to stare at Max Keenan.

"Temperance?" Booth tried again. He glanced over at her before returning his focus to her father.

"He's all yours Booth." She turned away from her father and slowly made her way back to Angela's car.

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**Author's notes: Okay, now I apologize for the short chapter…hmm, I'm just full of apologies today aren't I? I promise to do my best to update soon but with the way things are at work at the moment, it may be awhile. Please remember to let me know what you think…or just let me know that you're all still out there. Either way, a review will be an early Christmas present.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 35**

**Disclaimer: While my fervent hope is that I'll find Booth sitting under my Christmas tree on Christmas morning, I still don't own any of these wonderful characters.**

**Author's notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter—it's nice to know that you're all still out there enjoying this story. I know that the last couple of chapters have been heavy with angst…I've attempted to infuse bits of humor throughout the chapters to alleviate some of that. I hope it's helped. I wish I could say that this chapter isn't as angst driven but unfortunately it is. After all, Brennan still hasn't let go of her anger and grief just yet.**

**Anyway, if I don't have a chance to update again before Christmas, I wish each and every one of you a safe and happy holiday.**

**Please read, enjoy and be sure to let me know what you think.**

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Booth sat quietly at the table in the interrogation room watching Max Keenan study the handcuffs on his wrists. The fugitive had not spoken since Booth had arrested him at the cemetery. Max had mournfully watched his daughter turn her back on him and walk away before he had simply given up.

"You wanna tell me whose body we found in that warehouse Max?"

Max's eyes remained on his handcuffs as he rotated his wrists inside the constricting shackles. "I didn't kill him if that's what you're asking," he replied softly. "Regardless of what Temperance thinks of me…"

"You didn't kill him?"

"No," he said as he shook his head. "He was an unfortunate homeless man whose body I came across in an alley. I found him and then I concocted my plan to disappear…"

"By faking your own death," Booth finished for him. "It was a good plan except for the fact that one of the leading forensic anthropologists in the world was reconstructing the remains."

"Yeah, except for that I was golden." His smiled slightly as he lifted his eyes to meet the agent's gaze.

"Do you realize what your plan has put your children through? Did you even think about what it would be like for them to watch you go into that warehouse and see it explode?" Booth's voice was low as he thought of the hell that Temperance and Russ had been through in the last twenty four hours.

"They weren't supposed to be there!" he stated, his voicing rising slightly. "You were supposed to come alone. _You_ were supposed to be the only witness…seeing Tempe startled me…"

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Booth eventually broke eye contact and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I could've helped you Max. I could've put you in protective custody."

Max laughed at him. "Wow, my daughter found a real Boy Scout. You still don't get it do you Agent Booth? This goes beyond the syndicate, Piazza, corrupt agents or even money. What Ruth and I naively became involved in all those years ago…there is no such thing as protective custody for me. For all your good intentions, agent, you can't protect me."

Booth opened a folder sitting in front of him and removed several photographs that had been taken of Vince McVicar's body. He narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward, pushing the photos across the table for Max to see. "So I can't protect you from whoever is after you…just like McVicar couldn't be protected from you?"

"That bastard got what he deserved," Max hissed. "He killed Ruth. However, I had nothing to do with his…untimely death."

"And Special Agent Charles Andrews and his 'informant'? You didn't have anything to do with their murders either, huh?"

The older man snorted and moved his restraints around on his wrists. "Andrews worked for Piazza, Sr. and then Junior. He commissioned his little 'informant' as you called him to kill Temperance."

"I know. Try giving me something I _don't_ know Max." Booth leaned back in his chair, awaiting an answer that he knew would never come. Max Keenan hadn't survived all those years on the run by telling everything he knew. He sighed as he thought of Temperance and Russ in the other room watching the interrogation. He knew Max's answers weren't satisfying them or helping them to understand their father and his motivation.

Max leaned back, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. "Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear about the bomb that had been placed in my daughter's car? How close I came to losing her? Andrews and Piazza's boy pushed their luck that time."

Before Booth had a chance to question him about his last comment, a short, slender young man entered the room. "That's enough Agent Booth," he announced as he slid a piece of paper across the table. "I'm Special Agent Jake Roth from the Chicago Field Office and that piece of paper gives me the authority to take Mr. Keenan here back to Chicago with me."

Max watched as Booth picked up the paper and carefully read through it. He turned his attention to Agent Roth and smiled. "How old are you? Twelve?"

Agent Roth stared at the prisoner as he straightened his stance and buttoned his dress jacket. "I'm twenty-six, as if that matters, and I'm the agent that inherited your case."

For the second time that day, Max laughed. "My daughter could beat the hell out of you, you little pip squeak. The only reason you're here and were given any part in this investigation is that you've not been bought yet…"

"I'm an FBI agent, Mr. Keenan. I can't be bought."

"Oh, another Boy Scout," he scoffed.

"Look, Agent Booth, I'm prepared to take custody of my prisoner now and transport him back to Chicago…"

"I'm not going anywhere until I've had a chance to talk to my children." Booth suddenly realized where Temperance's stubborn streak came from.

He stood and handed the paper back to the young agent. "Give him the opportunity to speak to his children and then I'll hand him over."

"Fine," Agent Roth said as he checked his watch. "I'll give him thirty minutes."

"Let me go talk to Russ and Temperance," Booth said softly as he looked over at Max. "I'll be right back."

"Agent Booth," Max said as he stood and held out his hands. Booth reached out and shook the older man's hand. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter," he whispered.

Booth nodded curtly, released Max's hand and left the room. He entered the adjacent room to find Temperance staring into the interrogation room through the two way mirror while Russ paced behind her. Hodgins and Angela were seated side by side on a couch on the other side of the room, their hands entwined.

Russ stopped pacing when he saw Booth. "You can't let them take him to Chicago. If the syndicate knows he's being brought back, they'll kill him. Can't you put him into protective custody like you were talking about?"

"I could talk to my boss but Agent Roth has all of the proper paperwork to take custody of him," he admitted, hating the crestfallen expression that appeared on Russ' face. "You two can go talk to him now…"

Russ walked toward the door and glanced back to find that Temperance had not moved. He looked around the room, exchanging concerned glances with Hodgins, Angela and Booth. He slowly approached his sister until he was standing beside her, staring at their father in the other room.

"Tempe," he said softly, "come on, let's go talk to Dad."

"I have nothing left to say to him." Her voice was tight with emotion as she continued to watch the man who had inspired the scientist in her. Brennan was finding it very difficult to reconcile the man who had taught her about the skeletal system, leading her down the path to her chosen profession, her passion, with the fugitive sitting in the other room who was possibly involved in the deaths of three people in the last two weeks.

Russ sighed and lowered his head, wishing that his sister would stop shutting him out. "Marco…" he whispered. After a few moments and no acknowledgment of his attempt to connect with her, Russ turned and left the room.

"Sweetie," Angela said as she stood, "are you sure that you don't want to talk to your father before…"

Brennan turned her gaze toward Booth. Her tired eyes were bloodshot as she stared at him. "I want to go home," she said softly.

He nodded as she walked past him and exited the room. "Okay Bones…"

"Booth, we've got to do something." Angela crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the agent. "She cannot go on like this!"

"Ange," Hodgins said as he stood up, placing his hand on her back.

"No, Jack. I know what you said about letting her set the pace but goddammit I'm losing my best friend here! That woman out there is not the Brennan we all know and love and you know it. She's pushing us further and further away Booth…and if we don't do something now, we may never get her back. She won't even talk to her brother for god's sake! He's going through the same traumatic event she is and she won't acknowledge him." Her voice broke as she began to cry.

Hodgins pulled her into his arms and caressed her back. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered as he peered over Angela's shoulder at Booth.

As he turned to walk out the door to find Brennan, Booth hoped that Hodgins was right.

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Russ nervously entered the interrogation room and stared at his father.

"I don't have that long son. You gonna sit down and talk to me or just stand there and gawk?"

"Still the hard ass I remember," he said as he took a seat across from Max. "I would've thought being dead would help you lighten up a little."

"I always had to be harder with you…it was supposed to keep you out of trouble."

"And from following in yours and Mom's criminal footsteps?" Russ' sarcasm caused Max to narrow his eyes at his son.

"That's not fair…"

"The truth hurts, huh Dad?"

Max slapped his shackled hands on the table causing Russ to jump. "You and your sister can think whatever you want of me but the truth is that your mother and I loved you both very much. The day that we left you two…that was the hardest thing we ever had to do but it was to keep you both safe. McVicar would have killed all of us…"

"We waited for you," Russ said softly as he studied the aged version of his father, taking in his grey hair and weathered face. The man sitting before him was familiar yet different. "Tempe refused to open her presents until you two returned."

Max sighed and shook his head. "I wish things had been different Russ, I really do. Your mother and I tried very hard to lead a normal life, to make sure that you and Temperance never knew about our past. It just got so messed up…"

"I believe that's what called an understatement Dad."

"Still the smartass I remember," Max said as he smiled slightly. "I thought your parole officer would've taken care of that attitude." He glanced over at the door before turning back to his son. "Is your sister outside?"

Russ' gaze dropped to the table as he shook his head. "She didn't want to speak to you."

"Oh," he replied, disappointment evident in his voice. "Well, I didn't expect a happy reunion…"

Agent Roth entered the room, interrupting them. "Okay, wrap it up. We've got a plane to catch."

"Russ, whatever happens…" Max paused as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Whatever happens, just know that I never forgot about you or Tempe…that I love you both very much. Remember that and make sure she knows that okay?"

"Dad…"

"I've got to go with Agent Roth now," he said as he stood. Russ felt the now all too familiar sense of loss as he watched the young agent grab his father's arm and escort him from the room.

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She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter as Booth closed the door to her apartment. Brennan bypassed the kitchen and wandered into the living room staring out the windows at the waning light of the late afternoon.

He followed her, concern etched on his features. Brennan hadn't said a word since they left the Hoover building. He knew that Angela was right—if he didn't push her to talk to him, Brennan would continue to close herself off from him and everyone else.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had figured out that your father was still alive instead of taking off to find him by yourself?" He studied her as she crossed her arms, refusing to look at him. _Please talk to me…say something, anything…_

"I don't know," she answered. Her voice was flat and devoid of any emotion.

"Yes you do," he countered. It was now or never—she would either push him further away or she would finally break and succumb to the emotions she had kept at bay. "You were only thinking about yourself again," he added quietly.

Brennan slowly turned to face him, anger blazing in her blue eyes. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. You never even thought about how Russ has felt throughout this whole thing…it's been all about you. Just like it was fifteen years ago, huh?" He saw her anger grow as she took a step toward him.

"You don't know what you're talking about…"

"I know that you blamed him, pushed him away and then shut him out of your life and you're doing it again!" he yelled, giving in to his frustration with her. "I know this time you're not only pushing your brother away but everyone else who loves you too!"

"Get out." Her tone was stern and laced with anger.

"No. I'm not going to give you what you want—I'm not going to leave you so you can go back to thinking you're all alone in this world."

"Fine, I'll leave," she huffed as she moved to walk past him.

"Self centered and cold." He grabbed her arm and turned her to look at him. "That's not the woman I fell in love with."

Brennan pushed him hard with her free arm causing Booth to stumble backwards and to release his hold on her. "Go to hell Booth."

"What? Is the truth too much to bear? Can't stand hearing what a cold unfeeling selfish person you are?"

He had been witness to Brennan slapping people before, including Russ. As her hand connected with the side of his face, Booth realized that he had not been wrong to underestimate Brennan's strength. His face began to sting upon contact and he instinctively brought his hand to his cheek.

"I am not cold or unfeeling," she yelled as she raised her hand to slap him again. This time he stopped her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward him.

"Then talk to me!! For god's sake, Temperance, talk to me," he pleaded.

"What do you want me to say Seeley? I hate my father? I wish that I hadn't identified my mother's remains? I wish I didn't know what happened to my parents…who they really were?!" She pulled her wrist from his grasp and pushed him away from her. Tears fell freely from her eyes as she stared him.

The sense of devastation and loss emanated from her, filling the room. He felt his heart break for her as he stood there, watching the tears cascade over her cheekbones. The cracks in the dam were beginning to show and splinter at a rapid pace.

"That's a start," he whispered as he moved toward her.

"Don't," she said as she wiped at the tears that continued to fall. Booth ignored her request as he pulled her to him, encircling her small frame with his arms. As she wrapped her arms around him and began to sob, Booth knew that her exhaustion and grief had finally caught up with her.

"I've lost them again," she sobbed, "I've lost my family again Seeley."

**Author's notes: So, Brennan finally hit a wall and Booth was able to get out some of his frustration with her. I wrote and rewrote the argument between them dozens of times. I'm not entirely satisfied with my final draft but if I had stared at the screen any longer I was going to scream. Anyway, let me know what you think…and I promise I will attempt to have some humor in the next chapter! **

**And I haven't forgotten about my other less "angsty" fic. I'll try to finish the next chapter for "Moments" and hopefully post it before I go to work tomorrow night.**


	36. Chapter 36

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 36**

**Disclaimer: Santa only left me the first season DVDs, not the rights to these lovely characters.**

**Author's notes: Some of you have left reviews expressing concern that I won't finish this story. Please don't worry about that—I promise to see this through to the end. The problem has been finding time to sit down and write between work, which has been truly, truly horrible lately. The other problem is that I seemed to have lost my confidence in writing this particular story. I'm slowly working to regain that confidence… So, it may take awhile between updates but I will not leave you hanging without an ending. Thanks for your patience and as always thank you for reading and reviewing.**

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The sheets on the bed shifted slightly as Brennan stirred and rolled away from Booth's embrace. He frowned as he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward to study her face, gently stroking her hair in the process. Her eyes, puffy from crying, were closed and he noticed movement behind her eyelids indicating REM sleep. The anguish of the last two days was prominently displayed on her pale face. Even in her sleep she couldn't seem to escape her most recent emotional upheaval coupled with the loss she'd suffered years before as a teenager.

He continued to stroke her hair and watch her as he remembered her breakdown just a few short hours ago. Brennan had clung to him, sobbing, unable to speak for a few minutes before exhaustion overtook her and her knees had buckled. Booth had lifted her into his arms and taken her to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed before taking his place beside her. There had been no further discussions or arguments as he watched her pain and fatigue overwhelm her system and she drifted into a fitful slumber.

Booth slowly moved away from her and stood, stretching slightly. He ran his hands over his face before walking to the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he shook his head. No one could argue like he looked like hell with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and a full day's growth of stubble on his face. Quickly discarding his clothes, Booth stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to relax his tense body. Even as the water beat down on him, he knew the tranquil moment was temporary.

After his shower, Booth dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He quietly entered the bedroom and saw that Brennan had shifted once again in her sleep. Retrieving a pair of jeans, boxers and a tee shirt from his wardrobe, he quickly dressed and left her alone so he could make a few phone calls.

He padded into the living room in his bare feet and picked up the cordless phone, dialing Cullen's number first. The agent's steadfast belief that Max Keenan would not survive very long after his plane touched down in Chicago prioritized his calling list. He intended to do everything in his power to prolong the felon's life for as long as possible.

"Sir, it's Booth. I wanted to discuss the possibility of keeping Max Keenan in DC in our custody…"

Cullen sighed on the other end of the line. "Booth, I've been working on that. For now Keenan and Agent Roth are still in DC. Their flight to Chicago has been delayed; seems there was a threat of a security breach at the airport…"

"Threat of a security breach? Sir…"

"The fewer questions you ask at this point Agent Booth, the better." The deputy director sighed once again, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I know you are concerned for Mr. Keenan's welfare and I agree with that concern. I'm doing everything in my power to have him placed in protective custody here in DC in a secure location."

Booth released a long breath and scratched his stubble covered chin. "Thank you sir. If you would call and let me know either way…"

"Of course, Booth." After a brief pause he continued. "How is Dr. Brennan holding up?"

"She's resting at the moment." He cleared his throat and walked to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. "As I said, sir, if you would please notify me when a decision has been made regarding Max Keenan…" Booth had no intention of discussing his girlfriend's current mental state with anyone, least of all his boss.

"Yeah, sure. Call if you need anything else Booth."

He disconnected the line before opening his bottled water. Max Keenan may be a thief, a liar, and hell, maybe even a murderer but he was still Brennan's father and Booth intended to ensure his safety for _her_ sake. He honestly didn't believe she could withstand losing her father yet again.

His next phone call was to Angela. Her cell phone rang several times before she finally answered.

"Hello?" she mumbled, obviously groggy from sleep.

"Hey Angela, sorry to wake you. Is Russ still there with you and Hodgins?"

She yawned as she sat up on the couch in the study of Hodgins' mansion where she had fallen asleep. Her intention of taking a short nap had evolved into three hours of slumber that left her feeling even more tired. "Yeah, he's here. We convinced him to get some rest before he tried to drive up to Chicago…"

"Don't let him go anywhere," Booth ordered firmly. "Not back home to North Carolina or to Chicago."

"Booth, he's concerned about his father…"

"So am I. That's why Cullen's working to get him put in protective custody here in DC." He took a sip of water before continuing. "Just keep Russ there okay? I need to make sure that he's not in any danger before he goes home."

"And that he and Brennan have a chance to talk things out, right?" Angela smiled slightly, hopeful that her best friend would be receptive to reconciling with her sibling a second time. "How is she? Did you ever get her to talk to you?"

"She's asleep right now," he answered, followed by a heavy sigh. "As for talking to me…it was more of an argument; one that I started."

"Booth," she admonished the agent gently.

"It was the only way Ange," he replied even as he silently berated himself again for calling Brennan 'cold and unfeeling'. The hurt expression on her face in that moment would be forever burned in his memory. Although his strategy had worked, Booth was uncertain of the ramifications some of his words would have on their relationship.

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Brennan slowly turned over and reached out to find the other side of the bed empty. Her eyelids, heavy with fatigue and slightly swollen from crying, gradually opened so she could take in her semi-dark bedroom. The light of the late afternoon sun streamed through the wispy curtains, casting elongated shadows on the walls.

The events of the last two days played through her mind at a rapid pace and she suddenly felt the panic swelling through her system. Her father's 'death', her argument with Russ and then her argument with Booth played in a continuous loop as her body unwillingly succumbed to the anxiety.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Brennan fought to control the attack by focusing on her breathing only to find that the handy little exercises weren't working this time. Her body felt heavy as she tried to move across the bed to find the prescription she had cast aside just a few days ago. Near the brink of hyperventilation, accompanied by a wave of vertigo, she managed to reach the nightstand beside the bed and send her alarm clock flying in her quest to find her medication.

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Booth ended his conversation with Angela and placed the phone on the kitchen counter. She had promised, several times at Booth's insistence, to stall Russ and keep an eye on him until Booth found out whether Max would remain in DC. He hoped Brennan would take the opportunity to speak with her brother before their rift went any further. Hell, he hoped she would still speak to _him_.

Running his hand through his damp hair, Booth exhaled a long breath to relieve some of the frustration he felt building in his system. Just as he began contemplating how to broach the subject of Max with Brennan, he heard a loud crash in the bedroom.

"Bones," he whispered before he rushed down the hall and into the bedroom. He found her attempting to sit up on the bed, reaching for the small prescription bottle that was just out of her grasp.

Booth quickly moved around the bed, ignoring the pieces of the broken alarm clock that prodded his bare feet, and grabbed the bottle. He opened it and placed a tablet in Brennan's hand before he realized that he didn't have anything for her to drink. As he began to walk away to get her a glass of water, Brennan grabbed his hand.

"Don't go," she whispered.

"I just need to get you…"

She shook her head as she continued to concentrate on her breathing. The panic was gradually subsiding as Brennan clenched the small tablet in her right hand and held on to Booth with her left.

He took a seat beside her on the bed and waited out the attack with her. Between her lack of sleep and the incident with her father, Booth was not surprised by the sudden onslaught of anxiety.

Brennan's breathing slowly returned to normal and the vertigo had diminished significantly. She didn't release her grasp on the medication or Booth as she glanced down at the floor.

"I guess you'll need a new alarm clock," Booth joked as he put his arm around her and pulled her close.

"Your foot is bleeding," she commented in a soft shaky voice. She noticed a small trickle of blood on the inside of his left foot where he had apparently stepped on a piece of sharp plastic.

"It's nothing. You okay Bones?" He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder.

She nodded mutely watching a small drop of blood fall from his foot onto the floor. "You should clean that," she whispered.

He smiled slightly before placing another kiss on top of her head. "I'll be right back. Lie down and try to rest."

Booth carefully maneuvered his way over the shards of plastic to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for a small bandage to place on his foot. As he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and tended to the miniscule cut, Brennan slowly made her way to the bathroom door and leaned heavily against the door jamb, watching him.

"Bones…"

"He can't go back to Chicago Booth." Her voice only hinted at her exhaustion but her tone was firm and he shook his head at her stubbornness. "The syndicate…Piazza…they'll kill him."

"I know, Temperance. Cullen's working on it; for now your father is still in DC." She cast him an inquisitive glance, prompting him to further explain his comment. "There's been a threat of a security breach at the airport so flights have been delayed. Cullen said he would contact me later."

She nodded as she stared at the small bandage on his foot with unfocused eyes. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

Booth cleared his throat as he stood and walked toward her. "Russ is still at Hodgins' place…just so you know."

Tired blue eyes met his concerned sable gaze as he smiled at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on the side of her face as he continued to stare at her.

"Subtle, Booth," she said softly.

He chuckled as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I'm just imparting information to you so that you can make an informed decision later, after you've rested."

"You're mocking me, aren't you?"

"Just a little bit," he admitted.

She lowered her gaze to the floor and released a long, slow breath. "I can rest later. There are certain matters I need to attend to…before it's too late."

He watched her move slowly past him into the bathroom so she could shower and change. "That's my girl," he whispered.

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The airport was more crowded than usual thanks to the flight delays and the boost in security measures. Angry mobs of people surrounded Max Keenan and Agent Roth on all sides. Some were mumbling their outrage at being stranded for an undetermined amount of time while others were much more vocal, creating a disturbance.

Agent Roth appeared slightly flustered by the disturbances which amused Max greatly. They had sent a fresh faced newbie to escort him—a felon who had been on the run for years—back to Chicago to face numerous charges. Max shook his head slightly at the thought that it was his own daughter who had managed to lead the FBI straight to him. He was proud of her even if he was currently sitting in his own personal Hell wearing handcuffs that were way too tight on his wrists.

"You think you could loosen these a little?" He held up his hands as he looked at the young agent. "They're cutting off my circulation, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Agent Roth huffed as he folded the newspaper he was holding. "And no, Mr. Keenan, I cannot loosen those handcuffs. You're a con man, a thief and in my opinion, a murderer. I'm not falling for any of your little tricks…"

"Tricks?" he asked with a chuckle. "In case you haven't noticed, we're in a crowded airport with so much security that the President couldn't get through here. But fine, fine, I'll just suffer through the pain."

"Yeah, well…you're gonna have to cause I'm not altering those cuffs for any reason."

Max leaned back and adjusted the handcuffs as much as he could to alleviate some of the pain he felt. As he glanced across the crowded terminal he spotted a little girl with dark hair and big blue eyes who appeared to be about three years old pulling at her father's arm. The father smiled and leaned forward, scooping the child up into his arms causing her to giggle.

Max smiled sadly at the sight. Temperance had followed him around when she was that age, asking dozens upon dozens of questions about anything and everything. Now, she could barely stand to look at him and she had refused to speak to him before Agent Roth had taken him into custody. He would give anything to have his daughter, his little girl, look at him with the same love and admiration she once had.

He raised his hands again to wipe his damp forehead. It was hot in the airport and the massive amount of people mulling around the terminal didn't help. Agent Roth noticed the other man's movement and stared at him with concern.

"Mr. Keenan, are you okay? You look awfully pale…"

"I'll admit I've felt better kid." He wiped his forehead again and pushed damp stands of hair to the side.

"Do you need some water?" The agent glanced around trying to locate the nearest area where he could purchase a bottle of water for his prisoner.

Max unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling it back and forth in an effort to fan himself. "Yeah, water would be good…"

Those were the last words Max uttered as he slumped forward in his seat and fell to the floor.

**Author's notes: I know, I know…why did I end it there? Because I'm evil. Now some of you are wondering why Brennan and Booth didn't discuss the argument they had. Well, they will…don't worry. This simply means that there are a couple of more chapters left than I originally had planned. All will be explained, discussed and dealt with in due time. But while you're waiting feel free to press the little button at the bottom and tell me what you think…you know, if you feel like it.**


	37. Chapter 37

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 37**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, don't own them and odds are I never will.**

**Author's notes: I appreciate everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. I've had the rest of this story mapped out in my wee little brain for quite awhile but I could never seem to get the words to appear on my computer screen. Lately I've forced myself to sit down and write…however, I don't always end up writing chapters for **_**this**_** story. **

**A big 'thank you' to all of you who have continued to read and review this story. I know it's frustrating to read a story where the author doesn't update as often they should and I apologize for that. Unfortunately real life and bouts of writer's block (for this fic anyway) have been the culprits for the lack of updates. I noticed the last chapter did not have as many hits or reviews so the interest is obviously waning. I believe this story only has a couple of more chapters left in it anyway. I made a promise to myself to finish this story and I will.**

**So, for those readers that are still out there, feel free to leave a review to let me know what you think. And Howdylynn, I'll be awaiting your "woo-hoos"!**

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The steam from the shower filled the bathroom and wafted around Brennan as she allowed the hot water to beat down on her body, leaving her usually pale skin bright pink. She waited for the water to wash away her exhaustion as she thought about the situation with her brother and her father.

She released a long sigh as she realized that she and Russ were back to square one of their already tenuous relationship. Fifteen years without him in her life had been difficult but she knew that she was the reason for the lack of contact. Russ had tried. Every year he had called on holidays and her birthday and every year she had chosen to ignore the olive branch he had extended.

Then there was the matter of her father. Brennan had a difficult time reconciling the man she had known as a child with Max Keenan—a federal fugitive and probable murderer. However, the man was still her father and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him again. She needed answers though she knew the odds were favorable that the answers would be unsettling.

Her thoughts then turned to Booth. Booth—the man she loved; the man who had been by her side assisting her in her quest for the truth about her family; the man she had pushed away and punished for caring about her.

"_Self-centered and cold.'"_ Booth's words from their earlier argument echoed through her head, slicing through her soul.

She shivered slightly as the water became tepid and quickly shut off the shower. Brennan released another sigh as tears formed in her eyes. Booth was the first person she had allowed into her heart since her parents had disappeared. He was the first man she had truly been intimate with on an emotional level. He had accepted her for who she was including all of her flaws. A few tears fell from her eyes as she silently berated herself for ruining the best relationship she'd ever had.

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Booth moved hastily around the kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice and checking on the bagels he was toasting. He knew Brennan would want to leave immediately to check on Russ and her father but he also knew that she had not eaten in two days. Nutrition first, he reasoned as he removed the container of cream cheese from the refrigerator.

He glanced up and saw Brennan slowly entering the room, taking hesitant steps toward the kitchen. She avoided eye contact with him, focusing instead on the glasses of orange juice and two plates sitting on the bar.

"I don't think we have time for breakfast," she informed him.

He shook his head slightly as he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her through the kitchen and around the bar to one of the bar stools. "You haven't eaten in two days. I'm letting the fact that you also haven't really slept in two days go so the least you can do is take ten minutes to eat a bagel and drink some juice."

The no-nonsense tone of his voice left little room for argument. Brennan nodded as she took a seat at the bar and picked up her glass of juice. She reasoned that she should enjoy his company while she still could.

Booth walked back into the kitchen to grab the bagels and cream cheese before returning to sit next to Brennan. He slathered a generous amount on his bagel before pushing the small container towards her. She shook her head and began tearing a small piece of the bagel.

As he chewed his food, Booth continued to watch her. She was still avoiding eye contact with him and she had said very little.

"So Bones, I figure you probably wanna talk to Russ first; then we'll do what we have to do to get to your father." He took another large bite of his bagel as he continued to watch her.

Brennan nodded as she tore off another piece of the bagel, placing it on her plate next to the other piece that she had not bothered to eat. "Thank you," she said softly. "I appreciate that you're still helping me with this."

His brow creased as he continued to chew his food. "Of course I'm still helping you," he said around a mouthful of bagel. "What else would I be doing?"

"Packing your things and running out the door…," she replied absently as she continued her task of annihilating her breakfast.

Her response caused him to pause. "What? Why would you even think that?"

"'Self-centered and cold'." She threw his words back at him with practically no emotion. There was no anger on her part; just acceptance of what she perceived as the inevitable.

Hearing her utter the words he had used earlier caused Booth to cringe. His heart dropped a little at the realization that Brennan thought he wanted to end their relationship.

"Bones…"

"It's okay Booth," she said, vainly attempting to convince herself of the validity of her statement. "I understand…"

"No, Bones, you don't." He watched as she pursed her lips together and puffed her cheeks slightly. "Look at me Bones."

She refused his request and kept her eyes cast downward on her plate. Booth reached out and placed one finger under her chin to force her eyes towards him. "Temperance, look at me."

Her blue eyes, bright with glistening tears, finally met his and Booth silently chastised himself for hurting her. "Temperance, I am not going anywhere. If I was going to run away I would have done it a year ago after our first argument."

Relief flashed through her eyes and the corner of her lips tilted upward in a small smile. "With that being said," he continued, "I owe you an apology…for what I said. I crossed the line. My intent was to get you to talk to me and I thought if I could make you angry…"

"Mission accomplished."

"Yeah, I was an asshole," he conceded. "I just hope you can forgive me."

Brennan removed his finger from under her chin and grasped his hand as she leaned toward him, placing a kiss on his lips. "I think we're even considering how I've treated you for the past two days."

He smiled and tightened his hold on her hand. "That's still no excuse for what I said…"

She leaned forward and kissed him again. "You're forgiven, okay? Now can we go?"

Booth glanced at her plate and shook his head. "Tearing your food apart does not constitute eating Bones."

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Brennan gazed out the passenger's side window contemplating how to begin the impending conversation with Russ. The affluent neighborhood they were traveling through was lost on her as she mulled over what she wanted to say.

Booth pulled the SUV up to a large gate and rolled down his window.

"What are you doing?" Brennan questioned as she looked up at the mansion and massive estate beyond the gate. "I thought we were going to Hodgins' place…"

He smiled slightly and pressed the button on the intercom system. "This _is_ Hodgins' place, Bones."

Her brow creased as a voice came over the intercom. _"May I help you?"_

"Uh, yeah, Booth and Brennan…Hodgins is expecting us."

"_Yes sir."_ The gate slowly began to open as Booth shifted the SUV into 'drive'.

"Booth, there's no way Hodgins can afford to live here on his salary." She glanced around at the manicured grounds and colossal statues.

He looked over and grinned at her. "Well, Bones, since we've got a little bit of a drive to the front door, let me tell you about a little organization known as the Cantilever Group…"

"You've got to be kidding me."

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Angela greeted them at the door and quickly gathered her friend into a hug. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," Brennan replied just as softly. "Why didn't anyone bother to tell me that my brother was living in the lap of luxury?"

Angela chuckled as she released Brennan and smoothed a stray piece of hair around the anthropologist's face. "Jack doesn't want everyone at the lab to know that…well, basically that he's the reason the Jeffersonian even has a lab."

"Ange, I'm sure that other benefactors provide enough donations…"

"Joke, Bren; it was a joke." The brunette grinned and squeezed her friend's arm. "It's good to have you back."

She nodded and looked past Angela at the grandiose staircase leading to the second floor.

"He's upstairs, sweetie. Take a right at the top of the stairs, fifth door on the left."

"It's good to see that your subtle nature is still in tact," Brennan commented wryly.

Booth leaned over, bringing his face close to hers. "You know Bones, I didn't peg you as a procrastinator," he said before giving her little push with his hand.

"I'm not procrastinating Booth," she argued as she slowly began to ascend the stairs. "I'm just…"

"Procrastinating," he confirmed. She turned around to argue with him and found him pointing his index finger at the top of the staircase. "Talk to him first then we'll argue later."

Releasing a long breath, she turned away from him and made her way up the stairs. "I wasn't going to argue," she mumbled.

"She was so going to argue," Angela said as she stood next to Booth at the bottom of the staircase.

"I know." He glanced over at the artist and grinned. "God, it's good to have her back."

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Russ looked up from his suitcase when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. "Angela, I'm going to Chicago! Don't bother trying to stall me any longer, okay?"

He heard the door open when he turned his back to gather more of his clothing from one of the dresser drawers. "Angela's adept at many things…stalling is one of her best talents."

Brennan watched her brother tense slightly before he continued throwing his belongings into the suitcase that was lying on the bed. The reception was definitely chilly but she decided to forge ahead in hope of salvaging their relationship.

She entered the room and walked to the other side of the bed. "Marco…"

Russ chose to ignore her as she had him earlier at the Hoover Building. He balled up one of his shirts and tossed it at the suitcase, displaying his annoyance with her.

Brennan pursed her lips and glanced around the room. This was not going well at all. He'd been much more receptive when she and Booth had driven down to North Carolina.

"You remember when I told you that sometimes I need people to explain things to me? And you told me that I have to let people talk to me…Booth finally got through to me." She paused to gauge his reaction. He had ceased packing his clothes but he still refused to turn around to look at her.

"Booth made me realize that I…" she sighed as she closed her eyes, "he made me realize that I've been incredibly selfish; that I didn't consider your feelings all those years ago or even two days ago. I'm sorry."

She slowly opened her eyes to find that he had not moved. His shoulders were slumped forward and his head was bowed but he still had not uttered a word. Realizing that her effort to reconnect with her brother was failing, Brennan decided to take her leave. "Just to let you know, I'm going to do everything within my power to keep Dad here, in protective custody."

She had reached the door and placed her hand on the door knob when Russ finally spoke.

"Polo…"

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"So…you think they're okay up there?" Booth paced around the living room near the entrance to the foyer, rubbing his hands together.

"Dude, they're fine," Hodgins said. "Sit down…have a drink."

"I don't want a drink."

"Well, I'll have one for both of us." Hodgins grinned when Angela slapped his arm.

"Booth, please sit down. You're making me dizzy," the artist informed him.

The agent stepped out into the foyer area and looked around before entering the room again. His cell phone began ringing and he quickly slipped it out of his jacket.

"Booth." Angela and Jack watched as Booth's face turned pale and his grip on the small phone tightened. "Do you know anything about his condition, sir? Okay…yes, I understand."

His hand dropped to his side as he stared at the artist and the entomologist.

"Booth?" Angela leaned forward, concern etched in her features.

"That was Cullen….I don't…" He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Max Keenan collapsed at the airport and was rushed to the hospital. I don't know how I'm gonna tell Bones…"

"You just did," Brennan replied as she and Russ entered the room behind him.

**Author's notes: Well, maybe I've finally broken through my writer's block with this chapter, although I'm not really happy with it… Okay, I know it's been awhile since I've updated but maybe if I receive enough reviews….hell, enough hits….for this chapter, I might be inclined to update again this week since I'm on vacation for the first time in a long time. Let me know what you think. **


	38. Chapter 38

**A Pain That I'm Used To—Chapter 38**

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I beg and plead FOX refuses to give me the characters.**

**Author's notes: Okay, once again, I apologize that it took soooo looonnnggg to post Chapter 37. Sometimes real life just plain sucks…**

**As always, thank you so much for reading and please feel free to review. In addition to my lowly income, reviews are the only other things that sustain me.**

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The siren in the SUV drowned out most of Brennan's thoughts as Booth weaved the large vehicle in and out of traffic at a high rate of speed. Cullen had provided Booth with few details of Max Keenan's condition. From what Brennan could recall of her childhood, her father had never had any type of health issues; but she also didn't recall her parents being bank robbers either.

"I can't believe it took that little weasel Roth so long to notify Cullen," Booth seethed as he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel causing the horn to blare. "Hey!!" he yelled at the other motorists, "do you not see the blue lights dumbass?!"

"Booth, calm down. If you cause an accident it will only delay our arrival at the hospital," Brennan reasoned.

"Well there wouldn't be the possibility of an accident if," he paused as he rolled down his window, "some people would learn what the blue light and siren means!!"

Brennan glanced over at him and raised her eyebrows. "Do you feel better now?"

"A little bit…" he confessed as he rolled up the window and pressed on the accelerator.

"Tempe, what's the game plan for keeping Dad in protective custody?" Russ asked from the backseat. Angela was seated between Russ and Hodgins, clinging to the entomologist's arm as Booth swerved around another car.

Brennan cast a long look at Booth before she turned in her seat to look at her brother. "There is no 'game plan' Russ. Booth and his boss are working on it…but for now the agents with the Chicago office have jurisdiction."

Russ released a long breath and turned his face to look out the window.

"I promise we're going to do everything we can Russ," she assured him. He simply nodded his head as he kept his eyes on the blur of buildings, cars and pedestrians that passed by.

"Uh, Bren, could you convince your man to slow down?" Angela placed her head on Hodgins' shoulder. "I feel a little sick…"

Jack's eyes grew wide as he caught Booth's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Booth…."

"We'll be at the hospital in two minutes," the agent stated as he maneuvered the SUV around another car.

Glancing down at the sickly green hue of Angela's face, Hodgins tensed. "Not cool man. Just not cool."

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Two minutes later Booth brought the SUV to a screeching halt at the entrance to the emergency room. Angela scrambled over Jack's lap to exit the back of the vehicle and took a deep breath of fresh air.

"Ange, are you okay?" Brennan placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, just remind me to take a cab back to Jack's place because your boyfriend can't drive."

"Hey, my driving is just fine." Booth stood with his hands on his hips at the entrance waiting on Brennan.

She rolled her eyes as she led Angela by the arm into the hospital. "That coming from the man who thinks a yellow light means 'go faster'," she muttered.

"I heard that Bones," he retorted as he strode past them to the nurses' station with his badge in hand. "I need to know where Max Keenan is. Now."

Brennan and the others joined him as a young nurse glanced up. "Um, are you his family?"

Booth sighed and looked up at the ceiling as though to ask God for strength. "There's no respect for the FBI today," he muttered. "None."

"He's my father," Brennan said quickly as she placed her hand on Booth's forearm.

The nurse began shuffling through several clipboards and papers to find the requested information. The group began to grow impatient and Angela finally leaned over the counter, grabbing one of the clipboards.

"Hey, you can't do that," the nurse said.

"Apparently I can." Angela's eyes quickly scanned each page. "Room 482. He's not even in the ER."

Brennan and Russ led the way to the elevators as Angela tossed the clipboard on the counter.

"Wait, Mr. Keenan is in police custody," the nurse yelled after them.

"Seriously, do I just not look like an agent today?" Booth complained as he hooked his badge over the top of his jeans.

"No man, you totally look like a tool that our government would use to violate people's civil rights and hide the truth from the American public," Hodgins assured him as the doors to the elevator closed.

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They exited the elevator on the fourth floor with Booth leading the way. As he rounded the corner he spied Agent Roth standing in the hallway at a drink machine.

The young agent glanced up in surprise at the group approaching him. "Agent Booth? What are you…?"

Roth didn't have the opportunity to finish his question before Booth walked toward him and pushed him against the wall. "You better hope he's okay," he hissed as the young agent trembled. "Cause if he's not, I'll have you regretting the day you even thought about joining the Bureau."

"He's fine. The doctors said it was probably just an anxiety attack but they wanted to run some tests…"

Booth glanced over at Brennan who was frowning at him. "Too much of a coincidence," he whispered.

"Tempe what's wrong?" Russ looked from his sister to Booth, unable to decipher what they were thinking.

Brennan moved past Booth and jogged down the hall searching for her father's room number. She heard the others running behind her as she rounded the corner and located the room to her right. She quickly opened the door and entered the room to find the hospital bed empty.

Brennan walked further inside the room and noticed the door to the small bathroom was open and appeared empty as well. Just as Booth and the others reached the room, Brennan heard a moan from the other side of the bed.

"Dad?" she questioned softly.

Booth moved swiftly toward the source of the noise and found a middle-aged man lying on the floor with a large bruise on his forehead. "It's not your father," he remarked as he helped the man into a chair.

Roth pushed his way past Russ and Brennan and looked around the room. "That's Max Keenan's doctor."

"Ahh, he hit me," the doctor moaned.

"And he took your lab coat," Brennan observed.

"We gotta shut down the hospital," Booth told Roth. "No one in or out until we find him…and when we do, he's in _my_ custody. Got that Roth?"

The young agent placed his hands on his hips and glared first at Booth and then at Brennan. "No, no, he's my prisoner…"

"I may not be a big shot FBI agent here, but it seems to me that my father is no one's prisoner at the moment," Russ noted.

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Twenty minutes later, the hospital was effectively in lock down mode. Booth checked and double-checked every room, storage room, restroom and nurses' station on the first four floors himself. He sighed as he entered the stairwell and began his trek back to Max Keenan's room.

He had instructed Brennan and her brother to stay on the fourth floor. While Booth didn't want to believe that Max would take one of his own children hostage in order to negotiate his release, he wasn't willing to take that chance. Who knew what Max Keenan was really capable of?

As he exited the stairwell, Booth found Brennan pacing in the hallway while Angela and Hodgins sat in the chairs next to the drink machine watching her. Russ was seated across from them on the floor with his head lowered, resting on his knees.

"He's not on the first four floors…"

"What about the morgue?" Brennan asked as she approached him.

"I've got Roth and some of the other agents checking that area. I've not heard anything…"

"He's already gone," Russ muttered from his position on the floor. "He's probably safer that way too."

Brennan's jaw tightened as she closed her eyes. "He's not safe out there by himself Russ." She opened her eyes and looked over Booth's shoulder, noticing two men—one blond, one brunette, both husky—wearing dark suits. "Maybe those agents have some information."

As Booth turned around to see who she was referring to, his brow creased. "Those aren't agents Bones," he mumbled. He turned back around to face her. "Stay here."

"Booth…"

"For once Bones just do what I ask."

Brennan watched as he reached inside his jacket and unsnapped the thumb break on his holster. "Booth," she said as she stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. "Be careful."

He nodded as he turned away from her and began to approach the two men. "Hey guys, how ya doin'?" He pulled open his jacket to display his badge. "The hospital is under lock down; I'm checking out all the occupants of the building. So you, uh, gentlemen have any ID on you?"

The blond smirked and turned slightly toward the other man. Booth easily side-stepped the punch that the blond man threw at him as he grabbed his arm and slammed the man's face roughly into the wall.

The other man seized Booth by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back, forcing the agent to the floor. "You're not going to be able to save them Agent Booth," the man hissed as his knee came down hard on Booth's chest as his hand squeezed Booth's throat.

Suddenly the man slumped over and fell beside Booth. The agent looked up to find Brennan standing over him with a bedpan in her hand.

"You're dangerous with those things," he noted with a small smile.

"I'm just glad I found one that was clean," she joked as she tossed the bedpan to the floor and helped him to his feet.

"What the hell was that all about?" Angela demanded as she, Hodgins and Russ approached the couple.

"If I'm not mistaken these two clowns are with the syndicate and they're here not only to kill Max but Bones and Russ as well."

Brennan stared at him while Russ ran his hand through his hair nervously. "What? How do you know that?" he demanded.

"He told me I wouldn't be able to save 'them'; plural, as in all of you." Booth glanced over at the blond man who had attacked him first. Blooded gushed from his nose as he slowly sat up and stared at the agent. "But maybe blondie here will be able to clarify things for us."

Booth removed his weapon from its holster and kneeled down in front of the man. "Now, you wanna play nice and tell me who you are and how many more are with you?"

"I don't work for nice people Agent Booth and I don't play nice." He looked over Booth's shoulder at Brennan and smiled. "Although in _her_ case I might make an exception."

The gun was pressed against the man's forehead in an instant. Booth's jaw clenched as he held the weapon in one hand and the man's face in the other. "Let me explain something to you. I don't have a problem with killing you—you'll just be another body on an already long list." His grip on the man's face tightened. "You may be in a hospital but they won't be able to save your sorry ass. Now, give me your name and tell me how many of you managed to get in."

"Frank," he muttered. "Me, Jake over there and three others…"

"Where are the other three?"

"Don't know." Frank opened and closed his mouth after Booth released his hold on his face. The gun however stayed firmly planted against Frank's forehead. "I just know we had orders to come in and take out Keenan and his kids if they were here."

"Whose orders?"

Frank chuckled mirthlessly. "If I tell you they'll kill me."

"If you don't, it's lookin' like I'll kill you so….since you're dead either way…."

"You won't kill me Agent Booth. I'm more valuable to you alive."

Booth narrowed his eyes and pulled back the hammer on his revolver. "I really don't care whether you live or die."

Brennan kneeled down beside Booth. "Booth, don't. We can question both of them later." She held her breath and watched Booth's jaw clench and unclench as though he was weighing out his options.

He slowly released the hammer of the revolver much to Brennan's relief and swiftly swung the weapon, striking Frank in the face to knock him unconscious.

"Hodgins, you and Angela go downstairs, find Cullen and let him know that there's been a breach," he instructed as he stood up. "Bones, you and Russ are coming me with me."

"Where are we going?" Russ asked as he watched Hodgins and Angela rush to follow Booth's orders.

"We're gonna find your father before those other goons do."

**A/Ns: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter…if you did, let me know. Press the button. It won't hurt you, I promise! Perhaps another chapter will appear in the next few days.**


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